For Auld Lang Syne
by KindredKandies
Summary: Post Graduation. A little conversation and reflection on New Year's Eve as two people try to make sense of what they are to each other.
1. Chapter 1

**For Auld Lang Syne (Sequel #1 to A Tale of Two Christmases)**

 **By: Kindred Kandies aka ArchAngel1973 in collaboration with Marsis**

 **Disclaimer:** Characters and plot lines that appeared in the series, the books, and the concept of Roswell are not ours. Belong to Melinda Metz, UPN, etc, etc…

 **Pairing:** K&I but will also feature Michael & the others briefly.

 **Rating:** Mature – Just to be safe.

 **Summary:** Post-Graduation. A little conversation and reflection on New Year's Eve as two people try to make sense of what they are to each other.

 **Author's Note:** For Novy – Happy New Year's!

 **Part 1**

New Year's Eve was a time of merriment for many people, a time of quiet reflection for others, and a time to make resolutions that while well meant would most likely be forgotten before the first week of the new year was even over. The celebration could be heard going on outside the walls of the quiet tavern, the city's residents well into welcoming the New Year that was still a few hours away.

There were a handful of locals scattered around the tavern, all of them seeming to have sought out the quiet camaraderie of the establishment. It wasn't a place frequented by kids from the university nearby; it was a sort of unspoken understanding that this place wasn't for raucous gatherings. Very few outsiders ventured in and before long they bid their farewell and disappeared back out into the night. He knew given another hour or so even the people in the tavern would begin to liven up a bit and by 11pm they'd be in the mood to ring in the New Year.

He peeled back one corner of the bottle of O'Doul's he held between his hands, sighing tiredly and shaking his head when the bartender made another pass and motioned to his drink. He'd had his share of New Years' parties over the years and he'd made a ton of resolutions that'd been left by the wayside. This year he just didn't have it in him to spend the evening ringing in the New Year at some party and he'd decided resolutions were a waste of time.

He didn't hate New Year's per se; he just wasn't in the mood to celebrate a night that seemed destined to remind him of the one woman that remained just out of his grasp. For the past few years they'd spent December 31st together, sometimes with their family and friends, other times just the two of them. This was the first year he'd ever spent it alone and the first time since that stupid search for Enigma that he'd spent it without her.

He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, turning his head to glance over his shoulder when the door opened once again to admit some weary visitor. He rolled his eyes when he recognized the visitor and turned back to his beer to take a drink as he mentally prepared himself for what was coming.

"Just a Coke," the man said when the bartender shuffled down to nod at the newcomer.

"Don't you have somewhere to be, El Capitan?"

Michael Guerin ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it to brush the snowflakes away before giving his friend the once-over. "You look like hell to the power of infinity."

"Bite me," Kyle Valenti muttered without bothering to look at him. "I thought you had plans for the evening?"

He reached for the Coke the bartender placed on the cocktail napkin in front of him and took a drink, making a face at the too-sweet taste. "I did and there was nothin' in them about hangin' out with you at a bar full of stiffs."

"No one asked you to the party."

"No, but someone did ask me to find you."

 _Isabel._ He immediately nixed that thought. _No, she was the last person who'd be asking anyone to find him tonight._ "Tell Dad to stop worryin' about me and just rock into the New Year, alright?"

"That crap the Sheriff plays is about a billion light years away from anything resembling rock," he snorted. "The girls wouldn't get off my ass about makin' sure you weren't face-down in a bottle somewhere."

"You have any idea how much of this crap I'd have to drink to be tanked?" He held the bottle up and waved it back and forth in front of the hybrid's face. "I'd be here until next week. Unlike some people I can actually hold my liquor." He set the bottle down again. "And while there's alcohol in this stuff it's not enough to even register on my radar." He sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Look, I appreciate you guys checkin' up on me, but I don't need a babysitter for the night. Go back to the party over at the Parkers' Pub and let me drag my ass into the New Year alone."

"You know the hell I'm gonna have to deal with if I don't come back with you?"

"You've put up your token protest, you can go now."

He shook his head and drained his glass. "She's not gonna be there."

His hand tightened around the bottle. "If this's gonna turn into one of those stupid touchy-feely talks you're gonna have to go back and tell the girls to do better than sendin' in the B Team because you suck at it."

"What's up with the bitchy mood?" He grabbed a handful of peanuts and tossed them in his mouth, chewing them as he contemplated the situation. He nodded when his friend just shot a look at him before facing front again and taking another long slow drink. "Separation anxiety from the little fat man, right?"

"You're really not helpin' matters, El Capitan."

"She's not home tonight if you wanna go home an' pray or whatever it is you do." He made a face. He still didn't get the whole Buddhist thing his buddy was into. "Anyway, just sayin' if you need to go home and say a few chants you've got the all clear."

He waved his left hand dismissively. "It'll wait."

"You want me to go over to the house, get the fat man for you?" He shifted to rest his weight on his right elbow, one eyebrow lifting as he smirked. "I'm sure the Sheriff wouldn't mind letting Buddha move in too."

"I think it'd unnerve Dad if he had to look at my statue on a regular basis." And while he could meditate anywhere he was fairly partial to his meditation room at home. It had been a gift from Isabel the year before; she'd turned the third bedroom in their apartment into a sanctuary and he'd loved it the moment he'd seen it.

" _Okay, close your eyes."_

" _Isabel, it's been a long day and I'm beat." The temperature had peaked at eight degrees. He'd been at it before sunrise and it was well after dark now. He'd pulled cars out of ditches, jump started dead batteries, changed flat tires, and assisted with lockouts. He wanted out of his grimy clothes, a hot shower, a hot meal, and his bed… in that order._

 _She'd been waiting for him when he'd walked through the front door, a big smile on her face, her beautiful eyes shining with happiness. She had grabbed his hand, the smile momentarily slipping when her hands came in contact with grease as they slid across his palm. But it returned full force a heartbeat later as her powers gently removed any traces of the offensive substance._

" _Please?"_

 _They'd been living together since coming to Canada, sharing space and friendship, and to his dismay, nothing more. For two years he'd thrown himself into his work and when he wasn't at work he was either working out, meditating, or hanging out with the guys. How much could a guy take?_

" _I know what to do with the third bedroom."_

 _They'd been using that room for storage since they'd moved in. He couldn't care less what she wanted to do with it. He tried hard not to roll his eyes or sigh in irritation or do anything else that would hurt her feelings. He could see that whatever it was, it was important to her that he see it and be excited about it. "Just lemme get my outer gear off, okay?"_

" _Have you had dinner?" she asked, watching him as he stripped the gear off and she lifted an eyebrow when he hung everything in easy reach of the front door rather than stowing it away for the night._

" _No, not yet."_

" _You're on call tonight?"_

 _He rolled his shoulders and moved his head from side to side in an effort to ease the tension in his muscles. "Yeah."_

" _Well, that's ridiculous. You've been on call for the past five days."_

" _No rest for the wicked apparently," he mumbled as he tried to fight off a yawn. "Show me what you've decided to do before I fall asleep standin' right here."_

 _She led the way down the hallway, glancing back at him as she talked. "You remember we decided in spite of all the natural light from that room it wasn't large enough to work as a bedroom for either of us?"_

" _Uh-huh." Was it necessary to go over all the reasons why the room wasn't in use for anything but storage? Did she not understand that he was about to fall over where he'd just spend the rest of the night sleeping on the floor? Or at least until the next call came in._

" _It came to me the other night and I started clearing the room out."_

 _He nodded dutifully and made the appropriate noises to indicate his interest in spite of his desire to duck into his room and leave her talking to herself._

" _Okay," she turned to face him and put her hands on his shoulders, "are you ready?"_

 _He was so freakin' ready! Was his enthusiasm and joy at this detour not obvious on his exhausted face? "Let's see it."_

" _Oh, wait, you have to take your socks off."_

 _He dropped his head and reached up to press his thumb and forefinger to his eyes. "Isabel…" He was trying his damnedest to be patient with her but his last nerve was frayed and this wasn't helping._

" _Please?"_

 _He sighed and toed them off just enough to stand on the ends so he could pull them off without having to bend over and expend energy he didn't have. He gestured to the socks and lifted his eyebrows as he waved his right hand in a 'can we get on with it' motion._

 _If she hadn't known just how tired he was she would've expressed her opinion of his actions. But as it was, she was fully aware of his exhaustion, so she let it pass. Just not without a disparaging glance at the abandoned socks lying crumpled on the floor in front of him. "Okay," she took his hands, "now close your eyes."_

 _He bit back the comment that came to mind and just did as she asked. "Make it quick because closed eyes equal sleep." He felt the air around him shift as the door was opened, his tired mind briefly recognizing the fact that the door hinges didn't squeak like they normally did. He moved forward when she pulled on his hands, frowning when his feet didn't come into contact with the old wood flooring._

" _Just a little bit further."_

 _He followed her lead, coming to a stop when she indicated they were far enough into the room. It was an odd-sized room, long and narrow. Yeah, he supposed the right person could use it as a bedroom, but they both liked room to move in their private space. Bedroom furniture would've left the room cramped with too much space at one end or the other. He felt her take a step back and to the side and heard her snap her fingers._

" _Okay, now open your eyes."_

 _The walls that had been a sort of off-white had been painted a soft shade of brown, lending the narrow room the feeling of walking along a wooded path. He clenched his toes in the thick plush carpeting that was accented with a couple of red textured rugs and matching pillows. At the opposite end of the room a distressed wood bureau had been placed between the two floor-to-ceiling windows. Centered on the bureau was a Buddha statue, flanked by incense and candles that were lit._

 _Some of his exhaustion just melted away as the serene feeling of the room enveloped him. He released a surprised breath as he shook his head. Behind the statue was a framed poster and he snorted softly at the text printed on it in an Old English font: To thine own self be true._

" _I thought you could use a focal point."_

 _He chuckled and looked at the wall to the left, his gaze searching the Tibetan tapestry hanging from a bamboo pole before turning his attention to the opposite wall. A bronzed frame formed the border of the wall mounted water fountain. Inset lighting revealed the water slowly flowing down to trickle over the polished stones that layered the bottom of the fountain and hid the equipment necessary to keep the water circulating. Two small shelves had been placed on either side of the fountain, each of them holding a small bonsai tree._

 _The room was a perfect retreat. A place to come and meditate, a place to let the stress and aggravation of life melt away. He could see how much work she had put into remodeling the room, the care she'd taken in selecting colors, art, carpet and especially the statue. More than any of the others she understood his need to meditate and she'd given him a real sanctuary to do that._

And he'd obviously read too much into it, he reminded himself as he finished off his O'Doul's and motioned for something a little stronger to accompany the empty's replacement.

"So, I'm just curious," Michael said, pulling him out of his thoughts, "the whole Buddhist thing, I get that it's your safe zone or whatever." He made a face. He himself enjoyed time alone but the whole fat man statue, sitting around on a pillow, pruning tiny trees and meditating for endless periods of time, he didn't get that.

"Is there a question comin' sometime this century?"

"You do yoga in that room?"

"Why does it matter to you what I do in my meditation room?"

"Well, there's just some things I'm unclear on."

"Somehow I've got a feelin' there're a lot of things that fall in that category."

"I was watchin' the tube the other night and there was nothin' on, no surprise there – "

"How do you have that many channels and find nothing to watch?"

"Maria was in a mood and it was late, alright? Anyway, there was this yoga class thing on the fitness channel and I'm tryin' to figure out where they come up with these names. First off, there's that whole downward facing dog thing. That just doesn't seem all that meditative to me."

He nearly choked on his Jack and Coke. "What?"

"And then there's that monkey king pose thing. I mean, who can actually bend like that? The dude on the TV had one leg in front of him, one leg in back of him, and his crotch to the floor. Not only does that just not seem right, I don't see how that's physically possible. And then there's this one called – "

"Let's stop this conversation right here," Kyle insisted as he held a hand up. "I'm not discussing yoga positions or their origins with you."

"I just wanna know if you do crap like that."

No, he didn't. His meditation didn't involve bending himself into improbable pretzel positions that he'd never get out of. "Michael, would you just get the hell outta here and go home?" He scrubbed his hands over his face. This was NOT the way he'd anticipated spending his New Years' Eve.

Michael got up and scratched his chest as he let out a belch that had a guy at the end of the bar clapping. He turned and gave him a thumbs-up before grinning at Kyle. "I'm gonna hit the head an' after that, me an' you, we're gonna get to the bottom of this so I can get back to my girl 'cause I like you an' all, but I'm not about to kiss your ugly mug at midnight."

Kyle grimaced at the unwelcome thought that followed on the heels of that unwanted comment. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, waving Michael off towards the men's room and thanking Buddha for the brief reprieve. It wouldn't last long, but maybe it would be long enough to prepare for the next round. He focused on his breathing; inhale, exhale, repeat.

But it wasn't long enough and he'd known there was no such thing where his friend was concerned. He jumped and his drink sloshed over the side of his glass when a hand landed against his back with more enthusiasm than he was in the mood for at the moment.

"Hey," Michael called, flagging down one of the waitresses, "lemme get an order of your hottest wings over here with a side of onion rings. Oh, and bring a bottle of hot sauce with 'em."

"You want the Atomic Wings, honey?"

He grinned and nodded as he dropped down on his barstool next to Kyle again and he shrugged when his buddy just leveled a look at him. "What? The all-you-can-scarf buffet's over at the Parker pub. And where am I? Here, tryin' to get your sorry ass to cooperate so I can get back where I'm supposed to be."

"Then go. I'm completely sober. I'm not gonna run out and play in traffic. I don't have any intention of doin' anything stupid tonight. I just wanna hang out by myself and have a couple of drinks without havin' to explain my every move. Do you mind?"

Michael took a drink of his Coke and shrugged. "Nah, I don't mind. If midnight comes around and I'm still here, then I'm gonna mind."

He huffed out an irritated breath. "Michael, go bother Maria. You're damn good at that and she actually enjoys it." _Well,_ he amended silently, _she did most of the time anyway._

"Yeah, I know she does." He grabbed another handful of peanuts. "But," he mumbled around a mouthful, "she's doin' the singin' thing tonight so it's not like we'd be together anyway."

Kyle shot a baleful look at the steaming platter of Atomic hot wings and onion rings that was slid on the counter in front of Michael. "Yeah, I'm sure she's sorry she's gonna miss out on that. Try to kiss her after downing that mix and you're either gonna knock her out or melt her tonsils."

Michael shrugged one shoulder and abandoned the peanuts in favor of the wings, stuffing one in his mouth and waiting to see if Valenti would offer anything up. It didn't take long for his patience to run out. It was right about the same time the first Atomic Wing disappeared. "You two have a fight or somethin'?"

"Or somethin'," he muttered as he took a sip of his Jack and Coke and let his mind wander back to two nights ago. The night he'd finally decided he'd had enough. Enough of waiting to be seen as more than her best friend, enough of waiting for her to finally let go of Alex and reach for him, enough of waiting for her to realize he was the guy who'd stick around through thick and thin, enough… hell, he'd just had enough.

And he'd walked out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Philip ambled down the stairs, pulling the band of his wristwatch in place before snapping the clasp closed. He shook his arm and felt it settle into place just as his feet made contact with the first floor. The house was comfortably warm and smelled like cinnamon and apples with just a hint of vanilla. He peered around the doorway into the living room, watching his daughter as she flipped through the cable stations without pausing long enough to even see what was on.

"Hey, sweetie," he said as he took the two steps down into the recessed room.

"Daddy," she said with a brief glance in his direction.

Um-hmm, channel surfing in her sweats with her hair up in some kind of messy ponytail sort of… thing. That was never good. She had come by a couple of nights ago, asking if she could sleep in the guestroom and she hadn't gone home since. Not that he was complaining because it was nice to have the kids around. "Are you gonna be joining us this evening?"

"No, I think I'm just gonna watch TV. Y'know, there'll be some great shows on tonight."

His eyes flicked to the television and he gave a skeptical nod when he saw the station she had paused on. "I can see the draw of woodworking for beginners." He gave her a smile as he reached out to rub her shoulder. "You're gonna miss out on a fun party." He nodded at the sleek entertainment center. "Your copy of _Rudolph's Shiny New Year_ is over there."

Isabel forced a smile. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. You guys have a good time tonight, Dad."

"If you change your mind you know where we'll be." He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her head. "I love you," he whispered and squeezed her shoulder gently.

Her hand covered his for a moment as she tried to control the tears that wanted to fall. After a moment she settled for a nod, not trusting herself to speak. She breathed a little easier when he stepped back and then he was on his way to the kitchen.

"Diane," he called, "I told Jeff we'd be there about eight and if we don't leave pretty soon we're gonna be late." He paused in the kitchen doorway and sighed loudly when he realized she was in the process of making tea.

"Do not tap your watch, Philip," she warned when he raised his hand to do just that. "I have the dishes I made for the party in the insulated bags over on the table in the hall. I want you to take them with you. I've already talked to Nancy so she knows I'll either be late or I won't be there tonight." She lowered her voice with a meaningful look at their daughter. "She's just about ready to talk and it's not a conversation we can have with a party going on around us."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Jim said Kyle hasn't had much to say either."

"How shocking," Diane said wryly, "a man who isn't forthcoming with something that's bothering him."

Philip rolled his eyes as he crossed the room. "Alright, I'm going, but if you decide you're gonna be able to make it I want you to call me, okay?" He dropped a kiss on her lips. "It's been snowing all day and I'd rather come back for you than have you out on the roads tonight."

"I'll call," she promised and then shooed him out of the kitchen. "Now go so I can talk to our daughter." She chuckled and followed him, helping him into his coat and making sure he had everything before standing at the door to watch him carefully navigate the freshly shoveled walk down to the car. She waved him off and waited until he pulled out of the drive before she closed the door and leaned back against it, shivering as the heat of the house chased away the chill from standing in the frigid air.

She paused in the living room doorway and watched her daughter as she listlessly changed channels, not bothering to stay on anything for very long. Her gaze flicked to the television screen when Isabel sighed and slouched further down into the cushions. She recognized the movie. It was one she enjoyed and one that Philip had predictably slept through.

"Well, your dad's on his way and I have cookies to finish," she said, leaving it up to Isabel if she wanted to join her or not.

"Okay." She stared at the screen, not really watching the movie because the tears threatening to spill over made the images blurry. She didn't need to watch it to know what was going on – she had seen it so many times she could quote it word for word. Her thoughts drifted back to a lazy rainy Sunday afternoon just a few months before her world had turned upside down.

" _Whatcha watchin'?" Kyle asked as he rested his hands on the back of the couch on either side of her shoulders._

" _You've Got Mail."_

 _He rolled his eyes. "Again?" She had the movie but if it came on TV she was bound to find it. "I thought you had homework."_

 _She shrugged. "I'll get back to it later." She tipped her head back to glance up at him. "What about you?"_

" _Mrs. Deveaux's warming up."_

 _She snickered. Their elderly neighbor was a retired opera singer and she insisted on keeping her voice in shape. "At least she doesn't sing after nine." She gestured to the TV. "Guess it's this or Mrs. Deveaux."_

 _Kyle snorted. "What a choice." He sighed and shook his head after debating for a few moments. "Fine. We got popcorn?"_

" _Yeah, for later."_

" _Why wait?"_

 _Isabel just grinned when the doorbell rang right on cue. "Because you haven't eaten since breakfast and lunch just got here."_

" _I'll get it," he said when she started to get up._

" _Thanks. Money's on the table by the door."_

" _Uh-huh." He pulled his wallet out as he walked to the front door, opening both at the same time. He made small talk with the delivery guy as he fished out what was needed, paying him and then heading into the kitchen. He slid the cartons on the counter, pausing when he saw the cookies sitting out to cool._

 _Well, maybe just one. She knew better than to leave them out if she didn't want him snatching one. Mmm, he thought as he chewed it. Warm peanut butter cookie topped with a milk chocolate Hershey's Kiss. Okay, maybe just one more. He hummed to himself as he went to get paper plates and napkins, stacking them on top of the cartons and adding a couple cans of soda._

 _He balanced everything with one hand and shoved another cookie in his mouth with the other. As an afterthought he snatched up just one more cookie and placed it on the napkins for Isabel._

" _Did you leave any cookies?" she asked when he unloaded everything on the coffee table._

" _You just assume I have no self control."_

" _Yeah," she mocked as she slid a couple of slices of pizza on his plate, adding a few of the hot wings before handing it to him, "because your self control is so great." She rolled her eyes and took a slice for herself before leaning back._

She hadn't understood the look he'd given her at the time, hadn't even really known how to define his expression. _You didn't want to know,_ her little voice insisted.

 _She'd played it off, pretended not to notice, and when she'd gone on as if nothing had happened he'd just nodded and let it go. "The last time you and Michael were left alone in the room with cookies I'd just baked the two of you ate six dozen of them in a matter of minutes."_

" _He said he could eat more than I could." He shrugged and chewed a mouthful of pizza. "I couldn't let that go unchallenged."_

" _Six dozen cookies? You ate all of them!"_

" _Well, I had help." He'd also had a stomachache that wouldn't quit for hours after that. But he'd beat Michael by three cookies, so it had been worth it. He slouched down, munching on his lunch and halfway watching the movie. "I don't get it," he said almost an hour later. "I mean, he just told her who he is."_

" _What?"_

" _That bit about daisies being the friendliest flower, although how that makes sense is beyond my understanding. But he turns right around and says she told him that. The only time she ever said that to him was when they were emailing, before they actually met." He pointed at the TV. "So he just told her he's the guy on the other end of the email."_

" _Well, she has a cold and she's all fuzzy-headed. She's not thinking clearly."_

 _He rolled his eyes. "I think she's in denial." He watched for a while longer. "See? I mean, it's obvious right here that she wants it to be him but because she's got this image in her head of what the perfect man is she walks away and goes to meet the email guy."_

" _But she wishes it was him, she even says so at the end."_

" _Then why won't she take the risk?" He growled under his breath. "I don't get why you girls think this movie's so great. She wants it to be him but she won't just put herself out there and take the risk. She waits until she knows it's him, waits until it's…" he cast about for the right word, "safe," he spat out finally. He threw his voice and mocked the female lead, "I wanted it to be you." He got to his feet and stretched as he shook his head. "I think I'm gonna hit the books. Mrs. Deveaux should be finished howling the roof down."_

They could sit and watch just about anything and before it was over they'd have two completely different viewpoints about what they'd seen. And most of the time she enjoyed that, but there were times when she'd realized that what he saw seemed to mirror their relationship and it made her nervous. She dropped her head back against the couch and watched the end of the move, seeing it through Kyle's eyes, and wondering if he was right.

She ran her hands over her face and got to her feet, turning the television off and tossing the remote on the coffee table before going into the kitchen. She hated the sounds her feet made as they dragged across the floor but it just required too much effort to actually lift them up. She washed her hands and went to sit on one of the barstools at the large island that dominated the kitchen.

Her eyes wandered over the different cookies Mom was busy making and she frowned. "It's New Year's. Why are you still making cookies?"

"There's no point letting all of these leftover supplies go to waste. I'll make them and add them to the donations Jeff and Nancy will be taking to the shelter tomorrow."

She nodded and reached for a sheet of cookies, pausing when she felt the heat coming off of it and reaching for another one. Deciding it was cool enough she pulled it closer and stared at it for a few moments. Propping her left elbow on the counter she rested her chin in her hand and looked around at the decorations lying within reach. Sighing quietly she picked up a bag of M&M's, emptying them out on a paper plate and sorting the colors into little piles.

"Are you sure you don't want to go over to the pub?"

"Not really in the mood to celebrate." What was the point? There was nothing to celebrate. "You should go, Mom. If you don't you know Dad will eat too much and spend the entire night with heartburn."

Diane chuckled and pushed a bag of small chocolate covered pretzels across the counter. "Oh, I have your brother keeping an eye on him for me."

"Mom, you and I both know Max has eyes for nothing and no one that isn't Liz, tonight or any other night."

"He is smitten." She smiled as she thought about her son and daughter-in-law. They were happy and safe and making a good life for themselves and that made her happy. She watched Isabel as she pressed two brown M&M's into each of the cookies and then added a single red one to each of them before using the mini chocolate covered pretzels to give the 'reindeer' antlers. Her movements were slow and methodical, each M&M and pretzel precisely placed. It was a dead giveaway as to her emotional state.

"Maria's singing tonight."

She glanced up at her mom and shrugged. "Michael will be there." And she was sure he'd already talked to Kyle. The two of them were close and in his own way Michael would bulldoze his way into his friend's space and poke and prod until he figured out why Kyle hadn't been out to play lately. She rolled her eyes. For two grown men they could act like little boys when it suited them.

If she was right and he had talked to Kyle, well, that was just one more reason not to go to Parker's Pub. Michael was about as subtle as the proverbial jackhammer and he'd side with Kyle, she had no doubt about that, and she wasn't in the mood for the lecture he was sure to hit her with as soon as he saw her.

"Sure, but it's always nice for your friends to be there too."

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly dressed for a party. Don't really feel like going to one anyway."

"Well, I suppose you can ring in the New Year anywhere, can't you?" She smiled and sprinkled a fine dusting of sugar over the cookies she was decorating.

"It's just another day like any other." She didn't care about ringing in the New Year. She didn't want to think about the last few that she'd spent with Kyle. She didn't want to think about sitting down and watching _Rudolph's Shiny New Year_. There was nothing shiny about this one that was for sure. She sighed and shook her head. Time to move on, she was slipping back into depression territory.

She reached for the next cookie sheet and began the process all over again as she wondered if Kyle would be there. She wasn't lying about not feeling like a party, but under other circumstances she might force herself to get dressed and go out. As it was though, she wasn't interested in going out and running into him.

He had been pissed the last time she'd seen him and he'd refused to let it go. Meditating wasn't going to fix this one and he hadn't even tried. There hadn't been a big scene, no screaming match, and he hadn't even slammed the door. Any of those she could've dealt with but the silence was harder to fight. It was impossible to win against the silence because there was no one to fight with, to reason with. Silence forced you to face your thoughts and that had scared her just as much as the sudden loss of his presence. But rather than stay and figure out what had happened and try to figure out how to fix it, she'd run to Mom and Dad.

For the first time she had no idea what to say to him. Over the past few years they'd fallen into a routine and it worked for them. They went to class, they worked, they both dated, and as a rule, life flowed pretty smoothly. But things had changed. The rules had changed. And it had thrown everything into a tailspin.

Suddenly what they had wasn't enough.

"Alex hasn't been around," she suddenly blurted out.

"Do you know why?" It should be surreal to be sitting in her kitchen discussing the ghost of her daughter's boyfriend visiting. But it wasn't. She'd never seen Alex appear but she had no doubt that her daughter saw him. She didn't know if he actually appeared or if it was something Isabel needed, a coping mechanism of sorts, but she knew Isabel had come to rely on him being there for advice and support.

She had told her daughter once that he would go when she was ready to let him go. For so long Isabel had relied on him and she knew not having him there to lean on would leave her out of sorts because when that time came she was going to have to acknowledge the truth.

 _Did she know why?_ She frowned at one of the pretzels when she applied too much pressure and it snapped. She gently traced a fingertip over the broken pieces and they slowly melded back into a single undamaged piece. _Apply enough pressure and anyone or anything could snap._ Pressure didn't always have to be applied directly. Sometimes indirect pressure was more than enough to cause a break.

She had seen it happen… she had made it happen.

Unable to deal with the repercussions of what had happened between her and Kyle she had shut him out. He'd made the effort, tried to draw her out, but she had felt lost, adrift, and without Alex there to anchor her, she'd continued to withdraw. Why? Why had she pushed him away? It was stupid. It was the movie. It was the fear of the unknown, the desire to take the safe path, and she hadn't been brave enough to just jump in with both feet and take the risk.

And he'd walked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

Michael watched the action on the television over the bar for a while, trying to be patient but his buddy was testing his limits. He gave it up when Kyle muttered something under his breath and started making designs on his napkin with a handful of peanuts.

"Okay, look, it's pretty obvious what's got your shorts in a knot so you gonna talk about it or what?"

"You think you know it all, don't you?"

He shrugged and took a drink of his Coke. "I know what this's about."

"Oh, well, please enlighten me with your wisdom." He reached for his O'Doul's and took a drink. "I forget sometimes that you're honing your feminine side with that crap on _The View._ "

"You wanna hear this or not?"

"Hell, if I have a choice I'll take the second option."

Michael went on as if he hadn't even spoken. "You two did the deed." He shoved a handful of peanuts in his mouth and chewed slowly, giving Kyle time to deny it and nodding when he didn't.

"What we did or didn't do is none of your business."

"Yeah, right." His eyes flicked to the television and he shook his head when the goalie failed to block a shot. "Why else would you have moved in with the Sheriff? And why would she be stayin' with her parents if nothin' happened between you two? Because we both know how much the girl loves her own space."

"If you were anyone else this conversation would be over and you'd be on the floor."

Michael shrugged and held his arms out at his sides. "You think it'll help, take a shot." He and Kyle were pretty evenly matched as long as he kept his powers under control.

"Yeah, because I want Maria on my ass for knockin' you out," he snorted into his glass.

"Then just tell me what happened between you an' Isabel and I'm outta here. It's a win-win situation."

"Maybe for you."

Michael shook his head. "Who'd you think I was talkin' about?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You ever watched the _Nutcracker_?"

Was it his imagination or had the entire bar gone silent in the wake of a question no man should ever ask? Michael cleared his throat and glanced around surreptitiously, checking out the other patrons before responding. But before he could open his mouth his friend was off and running.

"There's this whole underlying theme…"

Michael motioned to the bartender and nodded at the empty glass Kyle was turning between his hands. He ignored the guy's raised eyebrow at the odd turn their conversation had taken and he reached over to place a hand on Kyle's shoulder, giving it a warning squeeze.

"Anyways, what she - Ow!" He squirmed out from under Michael's grip and glared at him while reaching up to rub the area that was probably well on its way to being bruised. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me?! You're the one sittin' here talkin' about a bunch of freaks runnin' around in tights. I get that sometimes you've just gotta talk about these off the wall things, but I'm not interested in takin' on a bar full of guys because you're weird."

Kyle just stared at him. "Yeah, you're one to talk," he muttered drily. "Look, Michael, I appreciate that you came here to make sure I'm alright, but just… leave me alone."

"I will," he said with a shrug and finished off his Coke. "Soon as you open your trap and tell me what went down between you an' Isabel." He nodded at the bartender when he replaced their drinks.

Kyle's hand tightened around the glass that had just been put in front of him and after a minute he pushed it back. He shoved himself to his feet and stalked off to the bathroom without another word.

"Gotta be a woman."

Michael turned to look at the guy who had spoken. He lifted his glass in response. "Is it ever anything else?"

"If it's got a guy talkin' about the ballet over beer," he shook his head. "Can't be anything else."

He smirked and gave a one-armed shrug as he lifted his right hand and made a circular motion with his forefinger next to his ear. "He's a Buddhist."

"Oh," the guys said, drawing the word out into multiple syllables. "One of those guys."

"Um-hmm."

He nodded as if that explained everything. "He wear those funny little robes?"

"Only when he's meditating."

The guy turned his head to watch Kyle as he crossed the room, his head bowed as he stared at the floor. "Well, whatever gets you through the day."

Michael laughed to himself when the guy picked his beer up and headed to the other end of the bar just as Kyle dropped down on his stool again.

"The point I was making with my question about _The Nutcracker_ was that the whole thing revolves around a dream. The girl in the production is basically living in this dream, right? It's where she's happy. She just loses herself in the fantasy and in my opinion the danger of losing perspective is too big a threat. If she continues to be drawn into the fantasy she'll eventually lose the ability to tell reality from fantasy."

He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that. "Well, that's just stupid. Reality's where it's at."

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Maybe he needed to go at this with a more direct approach because if he continued on his current path he was going to be stuck with his friend for the rest of the night. "Between me and you," he said with a direct look.

He nodded.

"Isabel still talks to Alex."

Michael shrugged. "So?" He'd suspected she was still holding onto their fallen friend.

"She sees him."

He slowly lowered his glass back to the bar without taking a drink. "She sees him," he repeated. "No, Isabel's too smart to see things that aren't there."

"It has nothin' to do with how intelligent she is, Michael." He took a drink of his Jack and Coke. "Christmas dinner with the Stevens a few years back, remember that?" He nodded when he received an affirmative response. "The conversation was choking me so I went outside to get some air. I saw him that night. I talked to him."

"About what?" he asked, his mind going over the possibilities.

"That doesn't matter. The point is he's gone, but at the same time he's not."

"Are you tryin' to tell me you're bein' haunted by Alex's ghost?"

"No, what I'm sayin' is she can't let go. Hell, maybe she doesn't want to let go." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know."

Michael mused over everything Kyle had said, even the crap about _The Nutcracker_. "Look, I know Isabel's got her issues," he kicked the stool his friend was sitting on when he started to interrupt. "The girl thinks she's cursed or somethin', that everyone she cares about ends up six feet under."

"You think I don't know that? I can deal with that but," he shook his head, "I can't fight a ghost." He took a drink of his beer. "And I won't." He set the bottle down, carefully and deliberately because the urge to slam it down was overwhelming.

"So what happened?" He held a hand up when Kyle shot an annoyed look in his direction. "I'm not stupid, Valenti. I know the two of you slept together."

For years he'd waited for Isabel to be ready, waited for some sign that she had made peace with her past and wanted to move forward. With him. They'd been sharing an apartment and they'd found it easy enough to make it work. Then she'd started dating and it had thrown him for a loop. He'd been sitting at the dining room table studying the night she'd come home from some project she'd been working on with a couple of classmates and he'd immediately been captivated by the look of happiness on her face.

" _What's goin' on?" he asked, turning to give her his full attention. She was a beautiful woman, but when she was happy that was magnified and it just radiated outward. Sometimes he thought he could just sit and stare at her because he'd never be able to look his fill._

" _I'm having dinner with Scott tonight."_

 _He'd managed to catch himself before his mouth could drop open. "Scott," he mused, trying to place him. "Your study buddy?"_

 _She made a face at him as she opened the refrigerator door to look for something to drink. "That sounds so high school, Kyle."_

" _Well, that's what he is."_

" _He's my project partner." She pulled the orange juice container out and poured herself a glass. "He's smart, athletic – "_

" _Figure skater?" he taunted but the tone of his question was lost on her._

" _What? No, he plays on the hockey team."_

 _Yeah, well, he knew that. He'd just like it if the guy was a figure skater because then he wouldn't feel so… invisible. He didn't have time for sports outside of an occasional recreational game. Between classes and work he stayed pretty busy._

" _Oh, you know what?" She dug around in her pocket and pulled a folded up piece of paper out, pressing the creases out of it before walking over to hand it to him. "Here."_

" _What's this?"_

" _Ellen Benoit asked me to give you her number._

" _Great." Her laugh was worse than breaking glass, he thought, recalling her description of one of her eligible classmates the night they'd gone to a college party that first New Year's Eve they'd spent together._

" _She's nice. You'd like her if you got to know her."_

 _He tossed the paper aside and went back to reading. "I've got a job."_

" _People with jobs date too, Kyle. It wouldn't hurt you to get outta the house once in a while."_

 _He knew he could date if he wanted to. He might not look like a movie star, but he was a decent looking guy and more than one girl had hit on him since they'd been there. It was just never the right girl. There were opportunities available, he just wasn't interested. "I get outta the house," he muttered._

" _She really likes you."_

 _He shrugged and poked the scrap of paper. "Maybe I'll call her later." But he wouldn't and they both knew it. "You said you had to hit the books for that big exam comin' up."_

" _And I will. I'm just gonna have dinner with Scott first."_

Scott had just been the first. Going out with him had been evidence that the dating moratorium she'd imposed had ended and suddenly guys had started taking the risk and approaching her. It had been agony watching her getting ready for her dates and being polite to the guys when they came by to pick her up. Nothing had been worse than the occasional date that brought her home well after midnight though. That had nearly killed him.

He'd hidden it. He'd thrown himself into work and school, he'd meditated and worked out, and eventually he'd started going out on the rare date. It was nothing more than an attempt to fill the space in his chest that she owned but seemed content to ignore. Maybe he should've spoken up sooner, told her the truth rather than expecting her to just know, but he'd been so sure she'd somehow know when she was ready.

He knew about her issues, that she felt like she was cursed. Over the past couple of years she'd dated different guys but never allowed any of them to become serious. She'd felt responsible for Grant but he wasn't the one that haunted her. No, she'd come to terms with his death. She'd finally put her relationship with Jesse to rest and he knew she'd accepted that and moved on. It was Alex that she was stuck on. He was the reason she hadn't allowed herself to take a chance and move on with him. Not Alex himself so much as what could've been if he'd lived.

But everything had changed a couple of nights ago and he'd thought the time was right. Granted, he hadn't given that much thought at the time. He'd been heady with the euphoria of finally having what he'd waited so long for. He was in love with her, had been for years but he'd known better than to rush into anything before they were ready. He'd had his own issues to deal with, namely Tess Harding and her betrayal.

The next morning he'd watched her wake up, his stupid traitorous heart beating like crazy and the words 'I love you' on the tip of his tongue. But before her eyes had even opened he saw the look of denial and apprehension on her face. What hurt the most was the regret he'd seen in her eyes when she'd finally opened them.

She'd held onto the dream the way he'd feared she would.

He'd made a major miscalculation and it had blown up in his face. She hadn't been able to get out of his bed or out of his room fast enough. He'd refused to back down. He'd tried to keep her from running, tried to get her to talk to him, but his efforts had been in vain. She'd shut down on him and even though he'd tried to hold his ground and fight it out he'd gotten nowhere with her.

He exhaled loudly, the sound holding more frustration than he could contain. He shook his head when the bartender motioned to his empty glass. He could nurse his beer for a while but he wasn't interested in getting loaded tonight.

Michael frowned. "Valenti?" He wasn't worried or anything, but he was a little concerned. The guy just wasn't acting right. Maybe he needed to have a few words with Isabel on the sly. If she was anywhere near as out of sorts as Kyle was there was no telling how this was going to end. He reached over and thumped his shoulder when his companion remained silent. "Hey, what gives?"

"She's not ready to move forward and I can't keep treading water."

"What're you sayin'?"

"I'm sayin' maybe it's time for me to leave."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

"Do you think I'm a coward?"

The question came out of the blue and caught Diane by surprise. "A coward?" she echoed, the disbelief clear in her voice.

Isabel shrugged as she rearranged cookies by size. "A person without courage."

"No." She set the pan she'd been washing aside and reached for a dishtowel to dry her hands. "No, that's not a word I've ever felt described you." She shook her head. "Not in any way, shape or form."

"Then maybe I just have commitment issues."

"Where is this coming from, honey?"

"I made a mistake and this time I can't just fix it with a wave of my hand." She stood up and started to move around the room restlessly. "Kyle moved out," she admitted finally.

"You don't think he'll come back?"

"I hurt him, Mom."

"Are you afraid he won't forgive you?" She watched her daughter, seeing the misery she didn't try to hide. "Or are you more afraid he will?"

Isabel's hand froze over the cookies she was once again rearranging. "What?"

Sensing that she wasn't quite ready to take that road just yet she backed up a few steps and decided to take the path Isabel had dodged earlier. "You said Alex hasn't been around."

"No." She sighed and her hands clenched around the edge of the counter. "No, he hasn't. He's been MIA for a few days now."

"Do you know why?" she prodded gently.

She linked her fingers behind her neck and stared at the ceiling. Did she know why? She felt like she was so alone but she couldn't tell her mom that. She didn't want her to think she wasn't enough.

"Honey, you're so lost right now. Do you think I can't see it?" She reached over to touch the younger woman's arm. "I know how much you've relied on Alex for advice. I know how much his presence has given you stability. He's kept you grounded."

"Yeah," she agreed and waved one hand jerkily, "and now he's gone."

Diane closed the distance between them and pulled her daughter into her arms. "Isabel, honey, as much as you've leaned on Alex you've leaned on Kyle even more." She combed her fingers through her long blonde hair, the touch soothing.

"And now they're both gone," she choked out, her hands clenching in her mom's sweater.

She was sure the timing wasn't a coincidence. But Isabel had to clear her head so she could see what had been right in front of her for some time now.

"Would it have made a difference if I had told Jesse the truth?"

 _Well, that was an unexpected turn,_ Diane thought. Isabel had put that behind her so bringing her ex-husband up now was a bit of a surprise. "Are you asking if I think it would've kept you together?" She waited until Isabel nodded before she continued. "In the short run it probably would've been better coming from you than learning the truth the way he did." She drew in a calming breath as she recalled how close she had come to losing her little girl to a bullet without ever knowing it. That story still haunted her. "But in the long run, no, I don't think it would've changed the outcome."

"Why?" She moved back and waited.

"Jesse was a man who knew exactly what he wanted out of life. He was 26 years old, settling into his career and he had a plan for his life. He wasn't old by any means, but there's a very big difference between 26 and 18. And the truth of the matter is he didn't know you."

"But even if I had told him about me you don't think we would've stayed together."

"No, I don't. I believe you would've given it everything you had, but even if there wasn't your alien heritage to consider, I have my doubts. You were 18, Isabel." She grasped her daughter's hands and held them tightly. "Your friends were all around the same age. You were just waiting to get out and experience life, sow some wild oats as your grandmother would say. Jesse was already settled. Spending time with a bunch of teenagers wasn't really what he was looking for."

Isabel smiled briefly. "Some of his friends were a little…"

"Boring?" Diane laughed. "That's to be expected with the age difference and with the profession he chose." She shook her head when she caught the surprised look on Isabel's face. "Do not ever tell your father I said that."

She sighed and moved across the room to stand at the window that faced the front yard and her eyes watered as she stared at the Christmas lights on the house across the street. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." She reached up and swiped the tears away before they could escape. "I don't know why I didn't."

"You wanted things to be normal and you wanted something you could control."

"Control?" she asked as she looked up to meet her mom's gaze in the window's reflective surface.

"When Alex died you were so lost, honey. I didn't understand your guilt over his death at the time, but I do know you learned the harshest possible way that we really don't have control over much of anything in this life. I've heard you tell your brother plenty of times that he's controlling, but that's something the two of you have in common."

"What?" She whirled around to look at Mom. "I'm not controlling."

"Yes, you are. Some people call it being a perfectionist, but it's the same thing. Christmas is not the only time that part of your personality comes out. It's present in pretty much everything you do. You're a force of nature and a lot of people will back down and give in to you rather than put up a fight because it's the easiest path." She chuckled. "Alex was learning that the only way to earn your respect and possibly more was to avoid giving in to your every wish."

"And if he'd just given in that day he'd still be here."

Diane hurt for her little girl as she watched her, finally understanding where the conversation about Jesse had come from. Isabel held her breath as she strained to hear the slightest sound and her eyes darted around the room, searching for him.

"You don't need Alex to tell you that's not true," she said quietly.

"Yes, I do," she insisted. "He said he'd be here when I need him. He promised."

"Then why isn't he here?"

Silence was the only response to her question so she decided to come back to it from a different direction. "Did he leave when Kyle moved out?"

Isabel drifted around the room aimlessly for a few minutes before finding herself back at the window. "No." She cleared her throat and repeated the denial in a stronger voice. "No, he left before that."

Alex had left the night everything changed. She'd known it as soon as she'd woken up the next morning. And she'd been hit with so many thoughts and emotions that she hadn't been able to look Kyle in the eye as she made her escape. It wasn't fair to him and she knew that but she hadn't been able to give him what he needed. So she'd run.

He'd come after her. She'd known he would. Kyle wasn't the type to just roll over and let anyone walk over him. He'd been angry, hurt and disappointed, but he hadn't just given up after one try. No, he'd given up when he came to the conclusion that she couldn't let go of the past, of Alex.

"What do you think of _The Nutcracker_?"

Diane took a seat on one of the barstools and leaned on the counter as she considered the question. "The ballet?" she asked to make sure they were on the same page. Isabel was all over the map tonight so following her erratic thought patterns was taking considerably more effort than normal.

"The ballet, yes, but more specifically the story behind it." She didn't give her mom time to respond before she launched into Kyle's viewpoint regarding the ballet. "I mean, the man can't just sit back and watch anything. He sits there and his brain comes up with these completely different views from what anyone else is thinking. I mean, for years I watched that ballet and loved every minute of it. I watched it and I saw this beautiful dream. He watched it one time and he comes up with this dark undertone about how Clara's at risk for losing herself in the dream, how if she's so happy she could eventually lose herself to the dream."

"Hmm," Diane murmured, "I can honestly say I've never given it that much thought. I just watched it and enjoyed the story."

Isabel threw her hands up. "Thank you!"

"But," she cautioned as she held a hand up, "that doesn't mean his interpretation is wrong. Ballet, like all forms of art, can be interpreted in many ways and I have to admit he's come to an interesting conclusion. Fantasies and dreams can be wonderful and they can be a beautiful escape, but knowing when to let them go and embrace reality is so important. Yes, there's a certain safety and security in losing yourself in those realms, but if you're not careful you'll look up one day and realize life has passed you by. And as much of a hassle as real life can be at times, it far surpasses anything you can ever have in a dream."

"You can't get hurt in a dream."

"That's true, but you'll also never really know life or love there either. Honey, no one enjoys getting hurt and there's no way to ever really prevent it from happening at some point, and in opening yourself up to the good things you're also leaving yourself open to hurt, but that's what it means to live, to love." She sighed quietly when she realized she wasn't getting through to her daughter. "Here, let's go in the living room. There's something I'd like to share with you."

Isabel did as Mom suggested and she bypassed the chair in favor of taking a seat on the couch, nodding when she said she'd be right back. Was she a coward? Hiding in the dream because she just couldn't risk getting hurt again? Was she settling for existing rather than living?

"Do you know your dad and I almost didn't get together?"

Her shocked gaze flew to her mom when she came into the room with an envelope in her hand. "What?"

She smiled and nodded as she sat down on the couch. "It's true."

"Why?"

Her eyes took on a faraway look as they dropped to the envelope she held. "Because it is easy to lose yourself in the dream."

She shifted around to face her mom. "I don't understand."

"There was someone before your dad. Someone I loved with the fierceness and passion only a teenage girl experiences."

"No," Isabel denied. "You and Dad love each other."

"Oh, honey, I love your dad with a depth even I can't comprehend." She laughed quietly. "I think you experience love differently depending on your age, the situation and so many other factors. When you're seventeen you rush headlong into love. You're fearless. There's no thought about it not working out because all you can think about is that rush you get just from thinking about that special guy. You don't have that cautious voice of experience warning you to slow down because you've never known the pain of a broken heart."

"So the guy before Dad broke your heart." She was still trying to wrap her mind around the existence of this other man.

"Not through any fault of his own, but yes, he did."

"How is that possible?" She was just about to launch into a rant about that when something about Mom's expression stopped her. "It wasn't his fault," she repeated. "He died?"

Diane nodded. "He had enlisted and he was among the last of the soldiers sent to Vietnam. He'd been there less than a week when his platoon was ambushed."

"I'm sorry, Mom," she whispered as she hugged her mom tightly.

They were silent for a few minutes before Diane pulled back and opened the envelope. She slid the photograph out and offered it to her daughter. "That's Travis."

Isabel accepted the photograph and turned it over to look at it. "He wasn't like Dad, was he?"

"No, he couldn't have been more different if he'd tried." The photo had captured him perfectly – young, full of life, brash and fearless. "Travis was impulsive and reckless and he ran headlong into life. That can be a very heady combination for a seventeen-year-old girl."

She stared at the young man in the black and white photograph. Fatigue pants and combat boots, bare-chested, dog tags hanging from the chain around his neck, his forearms resting on the rifle lying across his shoulders, chinstrap dangling from the helmet sitting at a jaunty angle on his head, and a wide, infectious grin on his lips. "You kept this. Do you still love him?"

"You always hold a special place in your heart for your first love. But it doesn't take anything away from what I feel for your dad." She tapped her fingernail against the edge of the photo. "He knows about the picture and he's fine with it. He understood and that helped. Travis is a part of my past and that's where he stays."

Just like Alex was a part of her past, she realized. Just like Kyle understood about her past, like he had supported her and helped her find a way to survive it.

"I got a letter and that picture nearly a month after he was killed over there." She drew in a deep breath. "I thought my life was over when I heard he had been killed. For a long time I went through the motions but I didn't really care about anything. It took a couple of years but eventually I started living again. Or at least I thought I was." She smiled faintly. "I was starting my second year in college when I met your dad. He was there on a football scholarship and he was in his last year."

"Dad's always said he knew you were the one the second he saw you."

Diane chuckled with a small nod. "He's said that from the beginning. He was persistent and no matter how many times I told him I wasn't interested he kept coming back and asking me out. Your dad hasn't changed that much." Her eyes sparkled as she lost herself in the past for a few minutes. "Strong and steady, dependable, hard-working, and oh, so good looking. He loved to go out and have a good time but when the time came to work or study all of his focus was on that and nothing else. He was determined to graduate at the top of his class and he knew what he wanted out of life." Her hand rested on Isabel's arm. "You ran straight to stability and I ran away from it."

The clock on the mantle chimed and Isabel glanced at it, her heart stuttering in her chest at the realization that the New Year was only ninety minutes away. "What changed your mind?" she asked as her gaze shifted back to Mom.

"Your dad was persistent but I was determined to avoid loving another man after losing Travis. Philip came to see me at the office where I was clerking part-time and he told me he was gonna ask me out one last time and if I turned him down he'd never bother me again. I'd spent the best part of a year turning him down but he'd never stopped asking. Every time he'd ask I'd say no and we'd end up talking, sometimes for a few minutes and sometimes for hours. Somewhere during that year I fell in love with him and I didn't even realize it until that day."

"And that's when you finally said yes." How did she not know this part of her parents' story?

"No." Diane smiled sadly and shook her head. "He was going to be leaving for law school soon so I wished him good luck and told him goodbye." She reached over and gently nudged her daughter's chin up when her mouth dropped open in shock. "Your dad is not the impulsive type. He's the man who always has a plan. He's not rigid or inflexible but he likes order." She chuckled. "He's not a stick in the mud but he's also not a man given to spontaneous behavior. Not very often at least." She smiled softly as her fingertips brushed over her lips at the memory.

Isabel's eyes widened. "He kissed you."

"Yes, he did. He kissed me, told me he loved me, and then he said if I didn't stop living in the past and fearing what the future might hold I'd spend the rest of my life regretting all I'd missed out on. And then he waited a few minutes, just watched me and waited for me to say yes. But I couldn't do it." She'd never forget the hurt look in his eyes as he'd nodded and turned to leave. She'd watched him pause at the door, drawing in a slow deep breath and squaring his shoulders before leaving the office, his head held high and his features free of emotion.

"You let him leave."

"I let him leave." She patted Isabel's arm reassuringly. "But I didn't let him get away. I had to take a good look at myself, do some soul searching, and cried on my mother's shoulder for quite some time before I found the strength to take the risk of loving your dad. I went to see him to ask him to give me a chance but he was already gone."

"What'd you do?"

Diane laughed. "I went home, packed a bag and told my parents I was heading for Cambridge. Your granddad was having none of that so when I got on the bus your grandmother was sitting on the seat next to me. No daughter of theirs was going to chase some boy across the country without a proper chaperone."

"That'd be so embarrassing!"

"It was," she admitted, "but it was a different time and while times were changing your granddad wasn't changing with them." She rolled her eyes but they shined with a combination of love and humor. "Having a chaperone around had its good points."

"Yeah, but what about when you just wanted to be alone with a guy?"

"Like I said, it had its good points. At the time it didn't seem like it and I sure didn't appreciate it, but being the mother of a daughter I can appreciate the precaution so much more now." She smiled at the look of disbelief on Isabel's face. "No, tracking your dad down and having that conversation with my mom in the next room wasn't what I wanted but I had to make him listen. Once I realized I was willing to risk my heart again I couldn't wait any longer."

"Was it hard?" she asked, her tone and expression somber. "Opening yourself up like that again, taking that risk?"

"It was hard. It was very hard to be honest. But honey, living and existing are such very different things. When I found the strength to break free of a prison I wasn't even aware I was in, it was such an incredibly liberating experience. There's a freedom in taking that freefall and knowing you can trust your partner to catch you."

The tears spilled over before she even realized they were coming and once they started she couldn't seem to stop them.

Diane took the picture from Isabel's hands and set it on the coffee table as she shuffled closer and pulled her daughter into her arms. "He'll forgive you, Isabel."

"I don't think he's coming back, Mom," she choked out through her tears and wrapped her arms tighter around her mom. Kyle was a fighter but how long could you fight for someone who refused to meet you halfway? She'd known the night he packed a bag and walked out that she'd pushed too hard. In all the time they'd been living together he'd given her space, he'd allowed her to set the boundaries, and she'd been content to live in denial.

And now he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** There are just a few lines in this part from the song 'The Gambler' – obviously we don't own it!

 **Part 5**

Kyle's gaze flicked to the clock over the bar. Ninety more minutes and he'd manage to survive New Year's without her. He was a grown man. He didn't need anyone to hold his hand through the holiday just because she wasn't interested in moving forward. With him. Or anyone really, but he wasn't noble enough to want her to move forward with just anyone. He sighed and ran a hand though his hair. No, he wasn't that noble, but if that's what it took for it to happen then he could suck it up. He wasn't so small that he wanted her to be miserable. He just couldn't stay here and watch her move on with someone else.

"I get that you need some space," Michael said, interrupting his thoughts yet again.

"No, you don't get it," he bit out as his gaze swung to the other man. "If you got it you'd get outta here and leave me alone."

"Valenti, you're talkin' about leavin' and I – "

"Michael, drop it."

It was rare that Kyle called him by his first name so that immediately had his attention. Usually he called him by his last name or by that stupid nickname he'd given him, El Capitan. The first name was generally reserved for those times when he wanted to make sure he had his attention.

"Look, whatever happened, it's between me an' Isabel. It's not anyone else's business. You mean well and I appreciate that, but you're not helpin' things by pushin' me on this."

"I don't know how else to get you to talk to me."

If his mood had been anywhere other than the toilet, it would've made him laugh. Michael Guerin wanting to talk? Who could've ever seen that one coming? "Then do us both a favor and don't strain yourself. Go back to Maria, tell her we bonded or whatever, and I'm fine."

Michael emptied his glass and set it down before dropping his feet to the floor. "You're not fine, Valenti, and she'd see right through the lie." He shifted to pull his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID before waving it in front of his friend's face so he could see Maria's name on the display. "I'm gonna step outside and get this and when I get back in here we're gonna get your head screwed on straight so I can get outta here."

He waved a hand dismissively and turned back to face his half empty beer, sighing tiredly as he rubbed his hands over his eyes. Would he go back and do things differently if he could? Maybe handle the situation without crossing a line that could never be uncrossed? He shook his head, unable to see things unfolding any other way. And selfishly he couldn't let that night be wished away no matter how much pain it might have prevented. _Might have?_ He snorted at that. There was no might about it.

How many times had she had a date pick her up at their place? She'd never brought them back home afterwards but she'd come home well after midnight on a few occasions. She'd been shocked when she'd stopped by his room and run into Holly Barrister bouncing around his room like the energizer bunny with fresh batteries. Wearing an old football jersey out of his closet and what appeared to be nothing else. Her expression had turned decidedly frosty when he stepped out of his bathroom, a towel knotted around his hips while he ran another one over his hair.

" _What's up?" he asked as he tossed the towel across the room where it landed over the back of his desk chair._

" _I just wanted to let you know breakfast is ready if you're hungry."_

" _Okay, well – "_

" _Oh, I'd love something to eat," Holly enthused as she ran over and threw her arms around him. "Thank you sooo much for last night!"_

 _He hadn't missed the eye roll or the look of irritation on Isabel's face as she turned and stormed out of his room. He started to go after her but she made it out of the house and then ducked him all day on campus. He managed to work himself up into a pretty dark mood of his own by the time he came home, making it a point to get there early enough to catch her before another one of her dates._

 _She was surprised when she saw him but she was quick to hide it. He didn't want any part of that particular denial game and when she made a smart-mouthed comment about his date the night before he turned around and threw the pot into the sink without bothering to take the food out of it first._

" _You got somethin' you wanna say let's hear it," he snapped. "For the past year you've paraded more guys through here than I've been able to keep count of and the one time I bring someone home you're all over me about it. You're the one that said I needed to get out and date more or have you forgotten that?!"_

" _I said date them, not bring them home for an overnight stay."_

 _He was completely lost and utterly confused. "Why the hell does it matter to you?" He leaned on the counter separating them, his hands locked around the edge because at the moment he wanted nothing more than to throttle her._

" _I just think you can do better."_

" _Uh-huh, and what the hell's wrong with Holly?"_

" _Her name's stupid to start with."_

 _He stared at her in disbelief. "That's your argument? Her name's stupid?" He threw his hands up in the air. "This from the girl who set me up with a girl named Bitsy?" He rounded the counter and stood toe to toe with her as he got in her space to make his point. "You have no right to say anything about who I choose to bring home."_

" _I don't bring any of my dates home and I sure as hell haven't let any of them run around the house half naked."_

 _He was seething inside. He hadn't even done anything wrong. Hell, he had even slept on the couch because he was that guy, the guy that never got the girl because they never wanted the one that was decent and wanted to stick around. Not that it even mattered. Holly had only come home with him because she'd had a couple drinks too many and she'd managed to lose her keys. Her roommate was out of town visiting family over the holidays so she'd had no way to get into her apartment until the office opened the next morning. There would be no convincing Isabel of that but he didn't care to make his case for celibacy at the moment. Frankly, it was none of her damn business._

"Okay, so let's talk."

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Let's not."

"Maria said Isabel hasn't showed up at the pub."

"And what would you like me to do about that?" he snapped.

"I'd like you to get your head outta your ass and tell me what happened. Beyond the obvious," Michael clarified, "because whether you wanna admit it to me or not, we both know the two of you got it on."

"What're you, like fifteen? You're obsessed with this situation and you're using up more than your quota of juvenile terms to talk about sex." He made a face and reached for his beer.

"Don't you feel better now that you've admitted it?"

"God, you're like a dog with a bone." He was exasperated and frustrated and about a dozen other adjectives he could think of just off the top of his head. "I'm not the guy she wants, okay? So it doesn't matter."

"It does if she slept with you." He grabbed a handful of peanuts when the bartender set a fresh bowl on the counter in front of him. "She's not exactly the casual type."

He was _**not**_ sitting in a bar discussing his sex life with Michael Guerin of all people. This was _**not**_ what his life had come down to. "How do I get it through your thick head that she's stuck in the dream?" He waved his hands wildly, the gesture easily conveying his frustration. "I'm not the guy in the dream, got it? And I'm not sitting here feelin' sorry for myself. Sometimes you gotta know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em."

"Say what?"

"The Gambler? Know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em? Know when to walk away, know when to run?" He rolled his eyes when Michael just stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"You should sing with the Sheriff, you'd fit right in."

"I'll pass, thanks."

"So you're just gonna fold? Just turn tail and run because she's got some issues."

"We're not talkin' about her… I dunno, wearin' her socks to bed, man. I'm talkin' about the fact that she's hung up on somethin' I can't fight. And I won't. I've waited around for years, hoping she'd finally see me," he thumped his fist against his chest, "that she'd open her eyes and see that I'm right here, and when she did – when I thought she did, she turned and ran right back to the dream."

Michael was getting a headache, something that was an unusual occurrence for him, and he blamed it on this conversation. "Look, man, Maria can drive me around the bend to insanity sometimes but – "

"It's not the same thing! Why can't you understand that? When that guy, what was his name, Billy, came back into the picture…" he nodded when his friend's features went taut at the reminder. "Yeah, but you know what? You could've fought him. You could've put your fist in his face and got your point across."

"Fat lot of good that would've done," he muttered, wondering how mad Maria would be if he just went to the pub and left Valenti here.

"Well, imagine havin' to deal with him as a ghost. You know he's there, you know there's a bond there, and you know no matter what you do you can't make her let either of them go." He lifted his head to look at Michael. "You had to let her go to figure out what she wanted and you lucked out. She came back to you." He took a drink of his beer. "I don't have that advantage. Isabel was never mine to begin with."

"Okay, first off, don't ever bring Darden's name up again," he said with a glare. "Second, I get what you're sayin' and I agree that you can't fight a ghost or a dream or whatever, but the thing is it's not your fight. If she's caught up in the dream," this conversation was seriously taking a lot of work to keep track of, "then she's gotta be the one to let it go. Sometimes we can't fight their battles for 'em no matter how much we want to."

"That's great, Obi-Wan." He leaned forward to thump his forehead on his fisted hands. Michael really wasn't helping. At all.

"That's it for the game!"

He sighed when he heard the announcer on the television above the bar shout out those two words. He tuned out the rest of them as his mind shut down, shifting back to a couple of nights ago and the argument that had set their tempers off like a tinderbox. They had ignited like a spark on the dry prairie, engulfing them in flames hotter than anything he'd ever experienced or expected.

He still didn't know which of them had moved first. They had been arguing and admittedly it had been a pretty stupid argument, spiraling further out of control with every word until they had come together, their lips fusing in an incendiary kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Unfortunately it's not possible to reply to guest reviews but we wanted to say thank you to Sarah! We do have more coming as the story is complete and just waiting to be posted. Thank you for the review!

 **Part 6**

"Did something… happen between you and Kyle?"

"Mom," Isabel protested as she moved back under the guise of reaching for a tissue to dry her eyes. The hesitation between the words, the emphasis on 'happen', it was clear what her mom was asking.

Diane nodded when her daughter confirmed her suspicions without really answering. "So why are you here?"

"Because it shouldn't have happened." What was the point in talking around it or denying it?

"Did he pressure you?"

"What?" Her startled gaze shot to her mom. "No, Kyle would never do that. I mean, I'm sure he could be very persuasive if he wanted to, but…" Ungh, she was _**not**_ having this conversation with her mom.

"There's a very fine line between persuasion and pressure and considering how long the two of you have been dancing around this… Do not roll your eyes at me."

Isabel rubbed her forehead tiredly. She didn't even have to be looking at Mom for her to know she was rolling her eyes and she'd never figured out how she could tell. "Mom, Kyle didn't pressure or persuade." There hadn't been time or a need for that. "We were just having this argument that was so stupid and… and I'm not even sure what happened. We were arguing and then we weren't."

They had gone from combative to primal in the blink of an eye.

"What were you arguing about?"

"The empty-headed girl he brought home the night before," she bit out before she could stop the words.

Diane nodded. "Aren't you the one who was encouraging him to date?"

"Date, yes, not bring them home where I could walk in on her parading around his room. In one of his shirts."

"Um-hmm," she murmured as she shifted to rest her arm on the back of the couch. "So it bothered you that he slept with this girl?"

"He didn't sleep with her."

"She was in his room wearing his shirt after an overnight stay and he didn't sleep with her?"

"No, he slept on the couch." She sighed tiredly. "He made sure he went over that several times before he left. He was very emphatic on that point. Apparently she had too much to drink and managed to lose her keys so he brought her home so she could sleep it off."

"You don't believe him?"

"No, I do. That's the kinda guy he is." She leaned forward and picked at a loose thread on her sweatpants. "And he doesn't really do the whole casual hook-up thing anyway."

"But even knowing that you assumed he had slept with that girl."

Of course she'd thought that.

 _She walked down the hall and tapped on the door to his room before opening it, the Christmas song she was humming stopping abruptly when she saw Holly Barrister moving around his room as if she had any right to be there. Her eyes traveled over the petite redhead dismissively but it was apparently lost on her because she just gave her a wave and a stupid grin before picking up a pair of socks._

 _Her blood boiled in her veins when Kyle stepped out of the bathroom in a towel and nothing else. He didn't even have the good grace to look like he was embarrassed when he looked at her._

" _What's up?" He was nonchalant as he tossed the towel he'd been using to dry his hair over his desk chair and she inwardly cringed. He was completely un-trainable when it came to certain things._

 _She forced her voice to stay level. "I just wanted to let you know breakfast is ready if you're hungry."_

" _Okay, well – "_

" _Oh, I'd love something to eat!"_

 _Her back teeth started to grind at the dense girl's enthusiastic shriek. Then she announced how grateful she was for the good time he'd shown her and she ran over and threw herself at Kyle. It took a serious amount of control to keep from flicking her across the room like the pest she was._

 _But, instead of hitting the pest with a blast of alien Raid she rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, stalking out of the room and grabbing her things so she could get out of the house before she had to endure anymore of the nauseating display._

"You were jealous," Diane said.

"What? No, Mom, it's not…" she trailed off and sighed as she got to her feet, needing to move. "Yes," she admitted.

"So the two of you fought after she left?"

"No, I left before she did." Just ran like a scared rabbit and spent the rest of the day avoiding him and the situation. "He was waiting for me when I got home."

Diane nodded and controlled the urge to smile. "Well, I'd imagine if you were avoiding him all day he was not in a good mood."

She made a face. "That has to be the understatement of the year." He had been furious and he hadn't tried to keep his temper in check.

 _She wasn't expecting to see him when she got home but she covered her expression just before he turned around to look at her. "What, no mindless entertainment tonight?"_

 _He nearly snapped the knob off the stove when he turned the burner off and jerked the pot off to throw it in the sink. She didn't get the chance to comment on his behavior or the mess he had made because he whirled around to pin her with a look on his face that she had never seen before._

" _You got somethin' you wanna say let's hear it," he snapped. "For the past year you've paraded more guys through here than I've been able to keep count of and the one time I bring someone home you're all over me about it. You're the one that said I needed to get out and date more or have you forgotten that?!"_

 _What right did he have to be pissed about this situation? "I said date them, not bring them home for an overnight stay."_

" _Why the hell does it matter to you?"_

 _Her gaze dropped to his hands when they wrapped around the counter separating them. "I just think you can do better."_

" _Uh-huh, and what the hell's wrong with Holly?"_

" _Her name's stupid to start with." Even as the words came out of her mouth she knew she had just pushed the argument into ridiculous territory._

 _He stared at her in disbelief. "That's your argument? Her name's stupid?" He threw his hands up in the air. "This from the girl who set me up with a girl named Bitsy?" He rounded the counter and stood toe to toe with her as he got in her space to make his point. "You have no right to say anything about who I choose to bring home."_

 _No right? He had to be kidding. "I don't bring any of my dates home and I sure as hell haven't let any of them run around the house half naked."_

"And you haven't seen Alex since that night."

She shook her head, shaking the memory off and keeping her eyes locked on the photos lining the mantle above the fireplace. Pictures that chronicled her and Max's lives from the time Mom and Dad had brought them home.

"You didn't go through this when you married Jesse." She watched her daughter as the words sank in. "Why do you think that is?"

Her breath caught in her throat. _Jesse hadn't threatened the dream_ , she realized. In so many ways Jesse had been safe. She had been able to control things with him. Or at least she'd been able to do that until he'd learned the truth. Once he'd discovered she wasn't the person he thought she was things had changed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 7**

Kyle wasn't the type to fumble. He wasn't the type to drop the ball. He was the guy whose focus was solely on the goal, whatever it happened to be. And that night his instincts, learned on the battlefield of Friday night football, and honed by experience since being drafted into the insanity of being part of the alien nation, had taken over and they hadn't let him down. He wasn't the most experienced guy around, but he wasn't a rookie either.

 _He'd moved on instinct, base and primal, but at the core of the need driving him, there had been other emotions that tempered his actions. He'd seen her move and in the space of one pounding heartbeat he'd countered that move and jerked her into his arms. The argument had ceased to exist at that point, replaced by something so powerful, so honest and blinding in its intensity that he'd given himself over to it without taking a step back and questioning it._

Blunt fingertips drumming out a staccato rhythm against the scarred surface of the bar drew his attention and he shot a look at his unwanted companion. Michael was momentarily absorbed in the action on the screen, completely unaware of his existence while he waited, breath held, body taut, for the player with the puck to score. Blissfully free of the piercing gaze and rapid-fire questions about a situation he didn't care to discuss with his friend, he let his thoughts drift back to that night.

 _Her breath had caught, a moment of surprise, shock perhaps, but when there was no hint of protest he took her mouth in a bruising kiss that shook him to the deepest part of his soul. She responded in kind and they dueled for control but he wouldn't give in, not in this. It seemed like forever, yet at the same time merely a brief moment, before she willingly abandoned the struggle and relented, relinquishing control to him._

 _He had taken the lead, his feet sure as they maneuvered them down the hall to his room. In spite of his need to be the one leading in this situation, every move, every kiss, every touch, it was all underlined by the love he felt for her. He had taken her to bed, to his bed, and for the first time in his life he'd made love to a woman._

Sure, he'd had sex before. Perhaps not recently, but in spite of Michael's good-natured taunts and jabs about his Buddhist path he hadn't joined the monkhood. Before Isabel he would've laughed at any guy who used the phrase 'make love', certain it was just something guys said to get the girl they wanted between the sheets. But there was a difference and now he knew what it was. And a small, traitorous part of him wished he didn't know because it was a hell of a lot easier to walk away from a night or three of casual sex than it was to walk away from a woman you'd shared intimacy on the deepest levels with.

 _The wind blew and he lifted his face to feel it, welcoming the warm breeze and even the fine grains of sand that brushed against his skin. His eyes opened and he scanned the night sky, taking in the star strewn canvas. It was breathtaking and so familiar it nearly hurt to see and feel it. The wind stilled and he inhaled the warm air deeply, drawing in the familiar scents of the New Mexico desert._

 _He felt a familiar presence and he dropped his gaze, turning his head to look at the woman standing beside him. Her eyes were searching the arid landscape, her spirit so peaceful, and her expression contemplative. As she turned to look at him they both froze, staring at each other for the space of a heartbeat. The last time he'd experienced it, it had been a dream. This time it wasn't a dream, it was something that was so much a part of him, so much a part of her, and it connected them in such an elemental way._

 _But there was something else; something that had given him hope – truly the greatest and cruelest gift that can ever be bestowed upon the human heart. When their eyes had met he hadn't seen the shadows of her past hidden in the dark depths and his foolish heart had soared because he had known, he had believed, that finally she was his in a way that went well beyond the physical._

But it had only been in his mind; a trick played by the desires of the heart. The cold light of day had come without fail and with it came doubts and recriminations, pain and regret. He should've known better. He should've guarded his heart from the inevitable crushing blow, but he'd foolishly allowed himself to be swept away while riding high on a wave of euphoria. He snorted at the ridiculous sentiment. Riding high on a wave of euphoria? More like the relief felt when the first drops of rain fell on drought-ridden land; the drought being his lack of a sex life for longer than he cared to admit.

He sighed even as he shoved that thought aside. As much as he wanted to make the pain go away he couldn't cheapen what they'd shared, not even in his own head. Besides, he knew it'd only make him feel better for a second or two because he knew the truth, and Isabel Evans was so much more than a quick roll in the sheets.

"Cat still got your tongue?"

His eyes lifted from the pile of shredded napkin bits, clearing his throat and cupping his hand so he could sweep them into his waiting palm. He started to throw them on the floor and then shoved them in his pocket instead. He glared at Michael when he caught the speculative look the other man was shooting in his direction.

"What?"

Michael just shrugged and shot a pointed glance at the sprinkling of napkin bits littering the floor.

So much for getting them all in his pocket. "Don't you need to go?"

His companion made a point of looking at the clock before giving that infuriating shrug again. "Still got an hour to pry your head outta your ass."

"Well, last time I checked you didn't have a license to practice as a proctologist, so…" He lifted his beer and took a slow drink, wishing he felt good enough to enjoy winding Michael up. "Just go be with Maria and tell her Dr. Love failed."

"You know where Isabel is, so why don't you just get your ass over there and have it out with her?" Hell, a good fight with Maria usually cleared the air and the makeup sex was phenomenal.

"Um-hmm, and that's gonna solve all our problems, huh?"

"Hey, you don't screw with a proven method."

"Well, the Deluca-Guerin method of knock-down drag-out fighting followed by what I'm sure is a nauseating display of making up isn't on the menu."

"Maybe it should be."

"And maybe you should just take your ass over to the pub and let me work this out on my own."

"Yeah, you're doin' a bang-up job so far." Michael shifted to rest his arm on the bar so he could look at his buddy directly. "You're not gonna solve anything with you sittin' here and her over at her parents' place. You wanna win the war you've gotta start by waging a few battles. And sometimes you have to take the first step, a preemptive strike if you will, and engage the other side in enemy territory."

Kyle rolled his eyes before pushing his beer back and leaning forward to lightly bang his forehead on the bar. How the hell did Michael and Maria ever get anywhere when it came to actual conversation? "Is this how you talk to your girlfriend?"

"What? No, see, Maria an' me, we don't need to have asinine conversations like this 'cause she's learned to listen when I talk." He frowned at what sounded suspiciously like a derisive comment followed by a snort. "Obviously you're into the girl, so get over there and fight it out."

"A good soldier knows when to advance and when to retreat, Michael." He signaled the bartender for another Jack and Coke. He shook his head and sighed tiredly. "Yeah, I could go over there and we probably would fight, but it's not a battle I'm gonna win. Not like this." He didn't want her to come to him with a ghost hanging over them. If she couldn't come to him of her own free will, ready to stand beside him and reach for the future with him, if she couldn't trust him with her heart, then the battle was already lost.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8**

Kyle had been her touchstone for so long. He was strong, steady and reliable. She trusted him with everything. Her relationship with him was unlike anything she had ever had with anyone else. They had a strong foundation built on friendship. She hadn't been Jesse's friend. She certainly hadn't made an effort to be Grant's friend. And Alex… she swallowed with difficulty. Next to being unable to save him, her biggest regret was that she hadn't accepted him sooner. Her gut instinct had told her he could be trusted. Why hadn't she just listened to her own instincts? She'd wasted so much time and time was the one thing that could never be taken back.

Alex could've, would've, been her friend and so much more in time if she'd just listened to herself and taken that step, opened up to him. But no, because of her fears and insecurities, their opportunities had been limited to Prom. Everything that might have come after that had been taken from them in a cruel twist of fate.

She nodded absently when she heard the oven timer go off and a moment later her mom excused herself to check on the cookies. The little voice in her head scoffed condescendingly. No, you haven't trusted him with everything, her conscience insisted. Be honest with yourself! The one thing he needs you to trust him with is the one thing you've withheld from him. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to silence the voice. She sighed in relief when the recriminations stopped but less than a heartbeat later the floodgates opened and the memories of that night washed over her.

Heat spread through her body like a wildfire consuming dry prairie grass as their connection rose to the forefront of her mind. The memories were merciless, refusing to be subdued any longer. She sank back into the cushions as they overtook her, demanding acknowledgment. Her fingers tugged at the tufted edges of the throw pillow she'd taken possession of at some point but she was completely unaware of the motion.

 _He took her in his arms when she reached for him, the move so fluid, so at odds with the heat raging between them. The argument faded away as it was replaced by something she didn't stop to question, forcing it back, because even in that moment she didn't want to acknowledge it. In spite of the struggle to maintain plausible deniability, she'd felt the connection they shared open wide as deep friendship, love and intense need suddenly flared into a single blinding supernova. She gave in to it, to him, to herself, and she couldn't honestly recall who took the lead or even how they ended up tangled in Kyle's bed sheets._

The sound of her mom moving around the kitchen as she took a batch of cookies out of the oven didn't even register as her skin flushed hotly. The sensory memory of his skin against hers, of the drive that had taken them over, combined with the easy recall of the openness in his piercing blue eyes as they locked on hers and the soft urgent sound of her name on his lips just before she went over the edge caused her to feel as if she was overheated and she almost got up and stepped out onto the porch to cool off

 _She released a slow shaky breath, her body feeling weightless as she experienced a moment so achingly familiar, so poignant… and so not hers alone. The wind blew and she lifted her face to feel it, welcoming the warm breeze and even the fine grains of sand that brushed against her skin. Her eyes opened and she scanned the night sky, taking in the star strewn canvas. It was breathtaking and so familiar it nearly broke her heart. The wind stilled and she inhaled the warm air deeply, drawing in the familiar scents of the New Mexico desert._

 _She felt a familiar presence and she dropped her gaze, turning her head to look at the man standing beside her. His eyes were searching the arid landscape, his spirit so peaceful, and his expression contemplative. As he turned to look at her they both froze, staring at each other for the space of a heartbeat. She didn't wake from the dream this time because it wasn't a dream. It was something else, something deeper, something so elemental that connected her and Kyle. Tears welled in her eyes as her heart not only noticed, but understood the significance of Kyle's presence and the absence of Alex's._

" _As you can see, the party's going strong as we close in on the final hour before…"_

She shook her head and frowned. _That voice and the dialog didn't belong in her memories,_ she thought as her annoyed gaze sought out the source of the distraction. She leaned forward and snatched the remote up, silencing the television and the irritating emcee. She threw the remote back on the coffee table and her eyes were drawn to the envelope her mom had left lying there.

Her mind went back over everything Mom had shared about her first love. She reached for the envelope, paying no attention to the remote when it slid to the opposite edge of the table, teetering there for several moments before finally tipping over to fall to the floor where it went ignored. She leaned back and pinched the edges open to carefully slide the photograph out. She studied it for a few minutes, thinking over everything her mom had shared; feelings, wisdom and advice.

"Mom."

It was barely a whisper but Diane heard it, had been waiting for it. She paused in the doorway to observe her daughter for a moment, smiling when the younger woman stood to look at her. She could see the slight trembling in the hand that held Travis' photo; could hear the quiet sniffling and see the watery eyes, and without a moment of hesitation she moved to take the picture and pull her girl into her arms. "Isabel."

The picture dropped to land on the envelope, freeing her hands to soothe the tremors racing through Isabel's body as she murmured words of comfort. Fingers clenched in her shirt as her daughter fought to regain control, to maintain her hold on composure that was rapidly slipping from her tenuous grasp.

"Just let it go, honey," she urged. She held her through the storm, knowing the cathartic release was necessary. When she finally began to calm Diane heard her throat work as she swallowed hard followed by a water-logged hiccup and her tear-roughened voice cracked when she spoke.

"Oh, Mom, Alex is gone." Another hiccup before she choked out more. "He's really gone." Her arms tightened and she hugged her mom closer. "And Kyle… I just let him leave."

Diane leaned back slightly to look into her daughter's ravaged features. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Isabel dried her eyes as best she could and nodded as she finally managed to settle herself down. "I need a ride, Mom." She raised her head to look into the framed mirror that hung on the wall above the loveseat, taking in her appearance. No, that wouldn't do at all. "And we'll need to make a quick stop at my apartment." Feeling that she finally had herself under control she moved from her mother's embrace and met her gaze steadily. "I need to go talk to him."

They had always been able to do that. Even in the most difficult times she'd felt completely at ease talking to Kyle. She had to believe that would still hold true, that what they had wasn't lost.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 9**

Michael leaned back as far as he could without falling off of his barstool, stretching his arms over his head and glancing up at the clock. Thirty more minutes and the New Year would be upon them. And he was still going to be sitting right here if Valenti didn't get his act together. He had tried everything he could think of to get the other man to open his trap, but so far it had been a monumental waste of time – which was exactly what he'd told Maria this trip would be. Once again, he was right, but would she admit it? No. No, somehow, someway, it would end up being his fault that Valenti crawled into the New Year face-down on the bar.

He rolled his shoulders and rested his left elbow on the bar, the fingers of his other hand coming up to drum out an impatient rhythm next to the nearly empty bowl of peanuts. The bartender took it as a bid for attention and within seconds he had shuffled over and replenished the snack before wiping the counter down and moving on. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed a handful of peanuts, shaking them in his lightly-fisted hand as he looked at his companion.

"Valenti, I enjoy your company on occasion and hangin' out with you has been known to be fun a time or two, but you're really pushin' it tonight."

Kyle didn't bother looking up from his contemplation of the design he'd sketched out on his napkin. "Is your ass glued to that stool? Are you handcuffed to the bar? Have you lost the ability to get up and leave?" He was too tired to bother with trying to be nice. He turned the napkin to a new angle and frowned at it. He wasn't much of an artist but it didn't stop him from doodling whenever he found himself in these situations.

"With this crappy mood it's probably better if you stay here," Michael muttered into his glass.

"There's a solution that works for both of us."

Michael got to his feet and leaned in close to his friend. "I'm gonna hit the head one more time and when I get back we're gonna get this thing settled."

He rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively. He was weary of dodging the persistent hybrid's pointed questions but this was one problem he didn't need Michael's brand of help with. His friends meant well and he loved them all for it, but he needed them to back off and give him some space to deal with the situation. He sighed and shifted to pull his cell phone out of his front pocket, getting to his feet and letting the bartender know he'd be right back before turning to walk outside.

He punched in number three on his speed dial and paced through the snow that was already well on its way to filling in earlier footprints made by the bar's patrons. His breath formed a frosty cloud on the air as he exhaled loudly. His brows pulled down in a frown when Liz answered and he held the phone out in front of him to double check the number he'd called. What was it with girls answering each other's phones anyway? Guys didn't do that. He shook his head and brought the phone back up to his ear.

"Hey, Liz. Maria there?"

"Yeah, she's just coming offstage," she responded. "Are you gonna make it to the pub for midnight?"

"Nah, I've got somethin' else goin' on." He could hear the smile in her muffled voice when she admonished Max for interrupting her but she was back a moment later.

"Are you alright, Kyle?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I just need some time to figure things out." He rolled his eyes. Damn, that sounded like such a chick thing to say! Maybe he really was spending too much time around the girls.

"Okay, well, you know if you need anything…"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll let you know." He'd rather voluntarily take a long walk off a short dock. He forced a smile into his voice when he heard the nearly inaudible sigh come through the phone. He knew the girls just wanted the best for him, wanted him to be happy, and he didn't wanna bring them down. Not tonight or any other night. "Happy New Year, Liz."

"Happy New Year, Kyle. I hope things work out," she said softly before handing the phone over to Maria. He could practically hear the silent conversation passing between the two of them as they exchanged that knowing look that all females seemed to have.

"He's driving you nuts, right?" Maria said by way of greeting.

"Maria, you've gotta call an' tell him he's off duty. I know he's tryin' to help and doin' his best to be supportive, but I'm not gonna play out the cliché to make everyone feel better. There's not gonna be any wallowing in self pity, crying in my beer while I pour my heart out, or any of the other clichéd scenes."

"We're just concerned about you, Kyle."

"I know, and I appreciate it, I do." He ran a hand over his face, not even noticing the rasp of stubble against his work-roughened palm. "I can only imagine what it took for you to push him out the door to come here and I'm sure I'll never hear the end of it since he probably thinks he had to cash in a little testosterone to attempt this conversation." He felt a small smile lift his half-frozen lips when he heard her quiet laughter and having confirmation that he was right made him very glad he'd put Michael through that _Nutcracker_ conversation. "Yeah, I'm not far off the mark."

"Talking to him isn't helping at all?"

"Maria, I'm glad you guys care and I appreciate his sacrifice, but this's somethin' none of you can help with."

"It's something you and Isabel have to sort out yourselves," she guessed.

"Yeah, it's between us and whatever happens, that's where it needs to stay."

"Diane's not here." She paused for the space of a heartbeat. "Philip got here a while ago."

"That's different," he said with a shrug. "Mom-daughter confidentiality." He shook his head. At least that's what Isabel had called it during some long-ago late night conversation. Besides, would she even talk to her mom about what had happened between them that night? It would be kind of difficult to get to the heart of the matter without bringing that up in some way. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, the sound heavy.

"Kyle, are you gonna be okay?"

"I'll get there eventually, Maria." He forced a laugh, but it was raw and filled with pain. "Just not through a conversation over warm beer and stale peanuts."

There was a long pause. "I'll call him. Just go back inside and get out of the cold."

"Thanks." He put the phone away after ending the call, wondering how she'd even known he was outside the bar. _It didn't matter,_ he decided as he stepped through the door. Slight tremors raced through his body as the heat suddenly surrounded him, too hot and not hot enough all at once. He gave it a few seconds before ordering his feet to carry him back to the bar and he retook his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs in an effort to warm them up.

He took a drink of his beer, making a face when it hit his tongue and he realized it had gotten warm. He didn't waste any time flagging the bartender down and motioning to his drink. He nodded when the man whisked it away and replaced it with a fresh, cold bottle.

Several minutes passed in blessed silence. The patrons in the bar were starting to get a little livelier but the atmosphere was still subdued compared to other bars. In spite of that, his corner was free of one certain hybrid's brand of advice and help, and to him it made the rest of the noise fall away.

"You bought yourself some time, Valenti," Michael growled as he came back and motioned to the bartender, letting him know he was ready to pay his tab.

Kyle shrugged, unconcerned. "Your better half, as always, is more understanding than you are." He took a drink of his beer, his movements slow and deliberate. "Go ring in the New Year with Maria and let me handle this my way."

He snatched his coat up and shrugged into it. "Just promise me you won't make any decisions about takin' off without talkin' to me first."

"I'm not gonna take off in the middle of the night, El Capitan." He turned his head when one of Michael's hands landed on his shoulder and he felt the control in the grip when it squeezed firmly. "If it comes to that, I'll let you know."

He breathed a sigh of relief when Michael let it go at that. A few minutes later the door closed behind his friend and he was able to relax to some degree. No, he was no closer to an answer, but at least now he could think without a hybrid shadow hanging over his shoulder.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** There is mention in this part of the song Same Old Lang Syne by Dan Fogelberg. It obviously doesn't belong to us.

 **Part 10**

The apartment was silent as Isabel stepped inside; the kind of eerie quiet that descended upon any home when something had happened to its occupants. She and Kyle had shared their space amicably for quite some time but she knew there was no way they could just go back to that. Not after all that had happened. But now she knew that wasn't what she wanted and there was no time to waste.

A bell rang somewhere in the city, a different bell than the Temple Bell at Ontario Place. She could recognize the sound of the Temple Bell after spending the previous New Year's Eve at the Buddhist ceremony with Kyle. He'd found it inspirational and he'd enjoyed the time they'd spent there. She'd left with a headache but she'd never told him that. She hadn't regretted going. Watching him enjoy it had allowed her to ignore the urge to leave and find someplace quieter because, headache aside, when he was happy so was she.

The bell! The one that wasn't part of the ceremony and rang out just moments ago had been announcing the half hour and she knew she had to hurry. It had only taken one phone call to find out where Kyle was. She didn't know if he'd stay there though. The bar they went to on occasion was usually pretty low key, but the fact that it was New Year's Eve meant that even its patrons would liven up to welcome it in.

She took the quickest shower she'd ever taken in her life, mentally searching her wardrobe at the same time. She hurried to get dressed, ignoring the dozens of high heels lined up on the floor and grabbing a pair of flats on her way out of the room. Before she could slip them on the doorbell rang and she huffed out an annoyed breath as she practically ran to the door. She pulled it open, her mouth open to tell whoever it was that she was on her way out and didn't have time to talk, but the words never had the opportunity to form.

Michael pushed his way into the apartment without bothering with pleasantries. His sharp gaze missed nothing as he gave her the once-over. "Where're you goin'?"

"It's good to see you too, Michael. I don't have time to – "

"Make time."

The words were issued in that no-nonsense, authoritative tone he used when he was handing out orders and she bristled. "Go be with your girlfriend, Michael."

"He's talkin' about leaving."

Pain shot through her when he shared that bit of information. Maria hadn't said anything about that, but knowing Michael, he'd probably decided to hold onto that so he could throw it in her face when he confronted her.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He crossed his arms over his chest, the pose one of intimidation but she didn't back down. "Was it worth it?"

"This is none of your business and I'm not gonna stand here and discuss my personal life or my decisions with you."

"You need to discuss them with someone because you're obviously incapable of making smart ones. Maybe he can phase in and out but it's not safe for him to be out there on his own."

"I have somewhere I need to be and I don't have time to get into this with you."

He shrugged and followed her around the room as she collected things, trying to figure out what she was doing. "Are you goin' out?" he asked incredulously. He stopped moving when she whirled around to face him and his eyes moved over her again. "You are. You're goin' out."

She rolled her eyes at his accusatory tone. There was no point denying it. She picked her phone up and sent a quick text. "Yes, I'm going out and no, you can't go with me."

"I wanna know what happened between you and Kyle. A week ago everything was fine and now he's bunking in with the Sheriff and you've been holed up at your parents' place. That's not exactly standard operating procedure."

That earned him another eye roll.

"Look," he muttered when she didn't give him anything, "you guys slept together. Fine. If it's not gonna go anywhere then just let it go and fix this."

She snorted indelicately. "Just fix it? I'm just curious, Michael. Could you and Maria just fix it? Just slap a band-aid on it and move forward, be good friends?"

"Me and Maria don't have a problem. What I'm sayin' is you have to fix this. He can't fix it. If he could he'd be here instead of me."

"So he sent you."

"No! Tight ass wouldn't even tell me what happened. Not that I needed him to," he clarified just in case she misunderstood. "It's obvious what happened. You two slept together and then you freaked out."

Isabel just stared at him. Partly because his behavior annoyed her and partly because he was right and it was a little unsettling when Michael was actually perceptive about things. He was far from stupid, but he tended to downplay his intelligence and she preferred it that way.

"I know your wires are all crossed up and you're y'know, confused and stuff. I mean, what with Alex and then Grant and that whole Jesse fiasco, it makes sense you'd be tied up in knots about getting involved with someone else. Anyway, my point is, if Kyle's that guy you're gonna have to let all that other stuff go. He's not gonna share you with…" he foundered, "y'know, your past."

"Excuse me?"

Hmm, not good. That was the quiet voice. The one that held a wealth of warning laced in every syllable. "You know what I'm sayin'."

Isabel slipped her shoes on and pulled her coat on before picking up her purse when a horn blew outside. She opened the door and grabbed Michael's arm, using a little alien urging to get him out on the porch. "Goodbye, Michael."

"Hey, I'm not done!" He looked down when his phone began to vibrate and he turned it over to glance at the caller ID. Maria. The woman had the worst timing. He flipped it open and lifted it up to his ear, his eyes following Isabel's hurried steps as she maneuvered the recently shoveled walkway to the taxi waiting at the curb. "Yeah?"

"How many times have we discussed the proper way to answer a phone?" Maria asked patiently.

"Huh?"

"Excellent response, Spaceboy. You've only got about twenty minutes to get here or I'm gonna miss my New Year's kiss."

"Yeah, I'm on my way. I'll be there." He put his phone in his pocket after ending the call and shook his head at the absurdity of this night. His gaze was thoughtful as he watched the taxi taking off in the direction of the bar and a soft smirk lifted his lips. _And people scoffed at his abilities as Dr. Love._ He ignored his phone when it vibrated again, knowing it was Maria starting a barrage of texts to make sure he was really on his way.

Isabel was grateful when the driver didn't try to engage her in conversation. He'd only asked where she was going and then checked to see if she'd mind if he turned the volume up on the radio. The music was louder than it would normally be, but it wasn't too loud. She could see the driver's fingers drumming against the steering wheel in time to the music and she was trying to figure out her next move when the next song began.

It was a song she'd heard plenty of times around the holidays but she found herself listening to the words more closely. _Same Old Lang Syne._ The song wasn't a happy one and it certainly wasn't filled with hope. Really, it was sad. A lonely woman, apparently well off but trapped in a loveless marriage. A lonely man who had success and was obviously popular, yet he wasn't happy. A chance meeting between two old lovers that resolved nothing and only enhanced those feelings of loneliness. She shook her head, wondering why the writer hadn't injected some sense of hope into the lyrics. No, she didn't want that to be them one day years down the road.

Her attention was pulled back to the present when the cab came to a stop and she leaned forward to pay the driver before getting out. She watched him pull away and her eyes were drawn to the neon sign blinking over the bar across the street. The New Year was just minutes away and as her thoughts went over everything that had happened between her and Kyle the other night she felt her nerves rear their ugly head. She stood under the streetlight, her feet suddenly feeling as if they were frozen to the spot when the door opened to allow one of the patrons to leave. _She'd recognize him anywhere,_ she thought as her gaze locked with his.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** There are a couple of mentions of the song, _Auld Lang Syne_ in this part. Obviously, this one also doesn't belong to us.

 **Part 11**

The sound a church bell rang out, announcing the time, and out of habit Kyle checked his watch. Half past eleven. Maybe it was time to go. The pub's patrons were beginning to show a little more life and he just wasn't in the mood to be surrounded by jovial drunks. He could head over to Ontario Place and listen to the bell as it rang out 108 times. It essentially signified a cleansing of the senses and allowed its followers to move into the New Year with a clear mind and body. That was something he could use. The year before he and Isabel had attended the ceremony. No! He slammed the door on that memory.

He shifted and glanced over his shoulder when the door opened to admit another customer and his eyebrows lifted in interest as he watched the man stumble slightly before being steadied by a couple of guys who stood to greet him by name. He'd met Cameron McConnell before. He was a quiet man, ruddy faced with big hands that were callused and scarred from his years working as a logger. Usually when the older man came in he spent his time sitting on the single stool down at the end of the bar. He didn't talk much. He tended to keep to himself beyond a brief exchange with some of the regulars and he never drank much. His gaze drifted over the man, recognizing the signs of too much alcohol.

He watched as McConnell patted his pockets and slowly, and with great effort, made his way over to the old jukebox sitting up against the far wall. He glanced around when he realized that the volume level of the conversations around the bar had dropped to a low hum and it was impossible to miss the respect the patrons gave him as he weaved his way between the tables. He fumbled in his pocket for some coins, sorting through them with bleary eyes, and once he'd picked out the ones he needed he leaned against the jukebox and carefully lined them up with the slot.

It was difficult to miss the way his hand shook as his fingers traced over the buttons, finally locating the ones he needed and pushing them in. The familiar strains of an instrumental version of _Auld Lang Syne_ began to filter through the speakers and Kyle shot a look at the bartender when he paused in his duties to watch McConnell as he pushed himself back, his hands gripping the sides of the jukebox as he closed his eyes and began to quietly sing the words. His voice was surprisingly strong considering his obvious inebriated state and his thick Scottish brogue was impossible to miss as he sang the song in his native tongue.

There was something haunting about the words, especially the heartfelt way the man was singing them. He knew a few of the lines in English, but beyond that he was lost. He'd never really paid much attention to the song and he found himself wondering what it really meant. When it ended McConnell remained facing the jukebox until the final strains faded away and then his back straightened and he raised his head to stare at one of the pictures on the wall above it. Slowly his right hand lifted and he snapped off a sharp salute, his gray eyes never wavering as he stood at attention for nearly a full minute before lowering his hand and taking a step back.

The conversations that had fallen silent from the moment the music began to play began to pick up again and people went on about their business. More than a few of the patrons reached out to pat the man's back or rest a hand on his shoulder for a moment as he passed.

"What's that all about?" Kyle asked when McConnell began to make his way to his stool at the end of the bar.

"You've never been in here on New Year's Eve." The bartender nodded at the wall above the jukebox, his eyes moving over the framed pictures that filled the space. "You know about the wall."

He nodded. The photographs were of local men and women who had lost their lives in various wars over the years. He'd seen the owner, Marc Robicheaux, personally escort a couple of guys out one night for being disrespectful and knocking a couple of the pictures off of the wall. Marc had several photographs of his own on the wall, having lost his great-grandfather, father, an uncle, a brother, an aunt, and his youngest son to different wars. He was a patriotic man, his beliefs were strong and he held people who served in the highest regard. Disrespect to his country or to those who had died in her service was not tolerated in any way, shape or form.

"McConnell came to us back in '91 – "

"Get yer dates straecht, Vince," Molly Buchanan, one of the regulars, said as she sidled up to the bar and settled on the stool Michael had vacated. "Cameron came to us in '92, he did. A tortured soul, that one." She shook her head, her red mane cascading down over her shoulders and drawing the admiring gaze of more than one man.

"So he's got someone on the wall," Kyle guessed, his gaze lingering on McConnell.

"Lt. Sean O'Laughlin. Best friends, the two of them were. Together from birth practically. Coudnae separate the two o' them."

He raised an eyebrow when he heard the quiet undertones in her voice.

"Aye, he's ma uncle," she confirmed. She smiled fondly when the man at the end of the bar raised a hand and she nodded at Vince.

"A pint o' Guinness, lad," McConnell called when the bartender turned in his direction.

Vince hooked a thumb over his shoulder when she offered to take the drink to her uncle, giving his silent permission for her to step behind the bar. "He and O'Laughlin went to war together but his buddy didn't make it. Their unit was ambushed and taken prisoner." He shook his head as his eyes once more moved to the wall. "What happened there he won't talk about. He comes in a few times a year and he never misses a New Year's Eve." He nodded when a customer raised a hand to get his attention and he pushed himself back. "He told me once he comes in on this night to bid farewell to the past so he can move forward." He reached for a glass and started mixing a drink. "Some people can't let go and they can't move forward. They just get stuck in a moment and when that happens they end up here, trapped in a cycle that just won't end."

"Yeah," Kyle muttered quietly as he straightened up. He'd promised he wouldn't just take off and he knew Michael well enough to know if he did he'd have a seriously pissed off hybrid tracking him down. No, he wouldn't just slink off into the night. He wouldn't turn tail and run because that wasn't who he was. Maybe he would leave, see where the road took him, but running wasn't an option.

The bell of a nearby church rang out and he glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes before this year came to an end and the new one was ushered in with merriment and more drinking. Well, one he could do without and the other he'd had enough of. He shifted and pulled his wallet out, checking his cash supply and retrieving what he needed to cover his tab along with a decent tip. He got to his feet and went to get his coat, shrugging into it and speaking to a few of the patrons on his way out.

He paused at the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob when _Auld Lang Syne_ began to play again. He turned to glance at the wall before shifting his gaze to McConnell who was still sitting at the bar, his eyes closed and his lips moving, but this time the words fell silently. His head slowly lowered and the lights behind the bar caught the tracks of moisture that trickled down his weathered face.

With renewed determination he turned the knob and pulled the door open, stepping out into the cold night air and drawing in a deep breath. In the distance the bell continued to ring and he fervently wished he could step into the New Year free of the burden weighing down his heart. He pulled his coat closed and was reaching for the zipper when movement across the street caught his eye. Out of habit he controlled his reaction, slowly shifting so as not to draw attention to the fact that he was aware he was being watched. It was a woman standing under the streetlight, a woman he'd recognize blindfolded in the dark. He relaxed slightly as the threat was dismissed but he could feel the tension taking hold of him as they stood there, staring at each other from opposite sides of the street.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** A couple of lines at the end are borrowed from the poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost.

 **Part 12**

Seconds stretched out into a minute, and then one minute turned into two as they stared at each other from opposite sides of the street. The silence was filled with unasked questions and punctuated by the measured ring of the Temple Bell in the distance. The snow was still falling, the white blanket so pure and untouched lending an air of seclusion, as if they were the only two people in the world, in spite of their surroundings.

She watched him, the distance between them too far to decipher the expression on his face, and she held her breath when he finally began to move. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he crossed the street and a moment later one of them came back out and she heard the telltale jingle of a key ring. Her heart stuttered in her chest when he veered off just before reaching her and her eyes followed him as he unlocked the driver's side door on a snow-covered pickup truck.

His dad's truck, she realized. Of course. Neither of them owned a car. They relied on public transportation most of the time, or occasionally caught a ride with family or friends if the situation called for it. She didn't offer to help when the door stubbornly refused to open and he didn't ask; he just jerked on it until it finally gave in to brute force and opened with a groan of protest.

Kyle leaned in and started the engine before pulling the back of the bench seat forward and snatching up the ice scraper. Why was she here? Did it mean anything? He snorted and shook his head. Of course it meant something. They were _**friends**_. And one of their meddling, well-meaning friends had probably let it slip that he was hanging out at the pub, drowning his sorrows and wallowing in self-pity. So, as any good _**friend**_ would do, she'd probably come to make sure he didn't get behind the wheel after drinking too much. _**Friend.**_ He'd never hated any single word more than he did that one at this moment.

He forced his posture to straighten as he backed out and slammed the door shut, leaning over the hood as he started the process of clearing the windshield off. Just focus, Valenti, one stroke at a time. If he could just get through this, find out why she was there and what she wanted, and then just drive away with his head held high, he could survive losing her. He focused on the scratchy sound the scraper made on the windshield, the vibrations as it dragged over the thin sheet of ice beneath the snow helping to ground him.

Isabel waited him out, knowing once he was finished removing the thick blanket of snow covering the windshield that he'd have to wait for the defroster to do its job and make the ice easier to remove. She'd seen him run through the process enough times to know how he approached it. She wondered if he intended to ignore her and then drive away, just leave her standing there, but she immediately discarded that thought.

When the last of the snow had been cleared he knocked the scraper against the front tire to dislodge the worst of the snow and then opened the door to toss it back behind the seat. Part of him wanted to just climb into the truck and sit behind the wheel, wait for the defroster to do its job so he could drive away. But he wasn't a runner. He wasn't going to just run off and leave her standing there no matter how much he wanted to. If nothing else, he would hear her out and probably even make sure she got home safely. He sighed. Sometimes he really wished he was the kind of guy who could just walk away without looking back or considering his actions. But he wasn't. And whatever they were now, whatever they _weren't_ , he wouldn't just let her stand there without acknowledging her existence.

Finally, he backed away and shut the door, barely registering the cold where his hand rested against the frame. Forcing his feet to move he rounded the front of the truck and stepped up on the curb, coming face to face with her. As much as he wanted to shove his hands in his pockets or cross his arms over his chest, he controlled the urge to do either. They were mannerisms that revealed discomfort with a situation and gave the other person the upper hand. He shoved Michael's voice out of his head and let his hands hang loose at his sides.

"Isabel."

"Ky-" She nearly choked before she could get his name out. She cleared her throat and tried again, succeeding with the next attempt.

He nodded and thumped his fisted hand against the hood of the truck, mindless of the snow that showered down over his boots. Under normal circumstances he would've made a joke about the snow, playfully placing the blame for the fresh snowfall on her. She wouldn't have accepted or denied responsibility, just given him a smile that would've made him wonder. But the situation was far from normal and he couldn't find it in himself to dredge up the energy to make a joke. Not here and not now.

She had to stop herself when she opened her mouth to remind him he wasn't wearing gloves. She had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate the reminder, no matter how well-intentioned it was. He was staring at her, waiting for her to say something, and she knew if she didn't speak up soon she was going to miss her opportunity… and she might not get another one.

She took a couple of cautious steps, closing the distance between them. Her mind was furiously turning over what she wanted, needed to say to him. In an effort to calm her nerves her hands lifted to toy with the decorative silver button at the top of her coat. She saw his eyes narrow fractionally as they locked on her hands and she knew he hadn't missed the revealing tremor that caused them to shake slightly. As much as she wanted to shove them in her pockets and hide the sign of weakness she stood her ground and let him see how this was affecting her.

"You said I was scared." She cleared her throat again and shook her head. "I was afraid, Kyle. I was terrified, to be honest. I've had some time to think, a lot of time."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Time's good for that I guess."

She sighed when he didn't give an inch but forced herself to nod and go on. "Y'know, I've never put a lot of stock in New Year's resolutions. Most of the time people just set themselves up to fail by putting unrealistic expectations ahead of themselves."

Kyle ran a hand over his face. Were they really standing in below zero temperatures with the snow blowing around them discussing resolutions?

She was losing him, she could see it. "Well, this year I decided maybe it was time I made a couple of resolutions."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you've decided to try somethin' new, Isabel, but maybe you should go share it with someone else."

"I can't share it with anyone else, Kyle."

"I can't be your go-to guy anymore, don't you understand that?" Buddha forgive him, he was on the verge of losing his temper.

"I can't share it with anyone else because admitting my mistakes and asking your forgiveness doesn't work unless it comes from me to you."

His right hand fisted in the snow on top of the truck while the other lifted to stop her. "Isabel, just… don't." He heard the catch in her breath but he steeled himself against it. He had to be strong if he had any chance of surviving this.

"Kyle, please listen to me," she begged, desperate to make him hear her. "I freaked out that morning and nothing I ever say will make up for that. I wish I could go back and change that because I never wanted to hurt you." She took another step, blinking against the fine mist of snow that brushed against her skin when the wind caught the top layer of snow on the truck and sent it in her direction.

"Wishing only gets us so far in life." He pushed away from the truck and reached for the door.

Her hand shot out to rest against the window, using just enough of her powers to prevent him from opening the door. "It scared me, Kyle. You were right and I'm not hiding from it now." She swallowed hard, staring at him and willing him to meet her gaze. "I saw you when we made love. Me and you out in the desert, under a blanket of stars, and I knew in that moment that I had let Alex go." She drew in a shaky breath. "That's the truth, Kyle."

"You think I don't know what it is you're afraid of?" He'd felt the fear thrumming through her; felt it so intensely it was like it was his own emotions running riot. Fear could be paralyzing and she wasn't impervious to it. He shook his head. "You're not the only one who's afraid. You're not the only one who has to deal with insecurities on occasion. And you're sure as hell not the only one who could screw things up here."

He watched her as she digested what he was saying. It was all true. Maybe he didn't advertise his insecurities, but they reared their ugly heads from time to time. Hell, he'd survived his mom walking out for whatever reason. He'd sucked it up and gotten over it when Liz dropped him for Max. He'd even managed to survive the nightmare left in the wake of Tess' departure. One way or another though, every woman in his life that had really meant anything to him had walked away. Maybe it shouldn't have come as a shock, but having her turn tail and run the other morning had hurt worse than he'd ever anticipated.

There was a connection between them, something that had sparked to life after Alex died and they'd started spending time together. He knew the fact that he'd been changed by Max healing him was partly responsible, but it was more than just an otherworldly connection. It was deeper than that. It was something that existed because they trusted each other enough to allow it to not only exist, but to flourish.

Over time she'd realized she could tap into her powers so much easier when they were around each other and he'd known that it scared her. He remembered the day he'd finally called her on it. They had been in the middle of a disagreement over something so stupid, so asinine, that he didn't even remember what it had been about. It hadn't been anything overt, but she'd accessed her powers without even thinking about it and he'd seen the look of fear cross her beautiful features… the fear that she could be like Tess.

" _You could never be her, Isabel."_

 _She'd started to pace, something she tended to do when she felt trapped. "You can't be sure of that."_

" _I'm probably better qualified to be sure of that than anyone else on this planet."_

 _She'd snapped at him then. "Is that so?"_

" _She had her chance and she blew it off. She could've had me, could've maybe had some semblance of a normal life with someone who cared about her, but she threw it away to chase an obsession." Max Evans again, he'd thought with an internal eye roll. If anyone had ever suggested he'd be friends with the guy in the future he'd have put a hurt on them._

 _She hadn't wanted to hear what he was saying and he hadn't pushed it. Grandpa always said you could lead a horse to water but you couldn't make it drink. Not that she'd have appreciated the comparison._

He was drawn out of his thoughts when Isabel spoke, breaking the silence. "What?"

"I said: A while back you tried to tell me why I could never be like Tess but I didn't let you finish. What were you gonna say?" She paused, searching his features that had yet to relax. "You said she'd chosen her obsession with Max over you, over what you could've had together."

"Yeah, that's what I said. What you didn't want to hear at the time was that, hybrid status aside you couldn't have been more different." He shifted his weight, his right knee bending just enough to allow his posture to relax slightly and he reached out to cradle her cheek. "You could never be like Tess because you reached for something real. You made a conscious decision to choose someone who grounded you, someone who complemented you on many levels. You, Isabel Evans, you chose Alex."

Her breath caught in her throat and she forced the lump down when every bit of pain her rejection had caused him flared to life in the depths of his eyes. Pain, fear, betrayal… and underneath it all, burning brightly was something else that was hers if she just had the courage to reach for it. Love.

"You're wrong, Kyle."

He smiled tightly and shook his head. "I don't think I am." She'd made her decision that morning just as she had several years ago. The only difference this time was that she had chosen to hold onto the dream. He dropped his hand and took a step back as fireworks exploded overhead, illuminating the city street while music from the pub spilled out through the closed doors as _Auld Lang Syne_ rang out into the night.

"I chose to let Alex go." She regained ground by stepping into his space and reaching out to him, her cold fingers resting against his equally cold cheek. "And I'm here tonight because I choose you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Standing beneath the neon lights of the bar sign, impervious to the cold wind and the snow blowing around, Alex observed the couple. He watched Kyle reach for Isabel, pull her into his arms, and try as he might he couldn't look away as they moved towards each other. For a moment their foreheads rested against each other and because of his current state he was able to hear their hushed words above the noise of the singing from the pub and the fireworks exploding above them.

"Where do we go from here?" Kyle's question was quiet, filled with intent.

Isabel didn't look away from him as she answered in a voice just as quiet. "Forward… together."

Their kiss was passionate, filled with promise and heat, but the temperatures eventually forced them apart and he smiled as Kyle pulled her back with him. He opened the door and waited while she slid across the seat before following her inside and slamming the door. The ice on the windshield, giving in to the heat from the defroster, began to slip and slide down the glass, distorting the images of the couple in the cab.

Kyle would take care of her. He knew that without a shadow of a doubt. He'd been in love with her for a long time and he'd waited for her. He chuckled quietly even though no one could hear him. It had been a close call. If Isabel hadn't found that well of courage he knew she had inside and come to Kyle tonight things would've gone a very different way.

He also knew that Isabel would take care of him. No, it wouldn't be some fairy tale romance. They were going to have their ups and downs, even the best relationships had them, but they wouldn't just throw in the towel at the first sign of trouble. They were both fighters and when it came to something worth fighting for they gave it everything they had. Tonight was one of the toughest hurdles they would face and they'd survived it.

His job here was finished. Perhaps one day one of them would need him and he'd journey back to this plane briefly, but she was and always had been his reason for staying close. Kyle would officially take his place. In reality, he'd taken his place a long time ago, but she had to reach a place where she could accept that. Tonight she had taken that step. She'd found the strength to let go of the past and reach for the future. It was what he wanted for her. He'd never wanted her to stop living because of him.

He'd told her once that he'd stay as long as she needed him. The other night when everything had changed between her and Kyle he'd known she didn't need to hold onto him any longer. He'd known they were going to hit rough waters the next morning; they'd jumped the gun and acted on the maelstrom of emotions and feelings that had been building for so long. Maybe with the two of them that's the way it had to happen though.

He'd waited on pins and needles, wishing he knew the outcome, but everything had hinged on what happened tonight. He sighed and looked up at the sky, staring at the stars above as the final strains of _Auld Lang Syne_ drifted out into the night. He couldn't deny the pang of loneliness that resounded in his soul and he wished fervently that it would pass.

"It'll pass, lad."

He turned his head to look at the man standing beside him; tall and thin, probably not much older than him, with short-cropped red hair and wearing jungle camo fatigues. His eyes dropped to the name patch on his chest. "Lt. O'Laughlin." He nodded at the pub behind them. "You're here for one of them?"

"Aye, ma best friend. Comes 'ere this night every year to pay respects to the fallen and…" his eyes glistened as he turned to look in through the window. "And I come every year to tell him it wasnae his fault that I passed." For that minute that Cameron stood there, his body ramrod straight as he saluted, Sean revealed himself to the man he'd called friend above all others. No one else was able to see him and Cameron never let on that his friend appeared to him.

Alex followed his gaze to the man sitting at the end of the bar. "He's not ready yet."

Sean shook his head sadly. "Absolution isnae something we can give, lad, not when the fault disnae lie with them." He sighed loudly. "Tis time for me to go."

He nodded and watched as the other man faded from sight. He supposed in that respect he was one of the lucky ones. His loved ones had finally accepted that his death was through no fault of their own. At least he didn't have to carry that weight throughout eternity. His gaze shifted back to the truck as the brake lights flashed before it began to pull away from the curb. He'd love her forever, he had no doubt about that, but for her to be free he had to let her go.

He stood there until the taillights disappeared into the darkness and he drew in a deep breath, wishing he could feel the cold wind, the snowflakes brushing against his skin, anything at all really. The bells in the distance fell silent as did the world around him and he knew it was time to go. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, smiling when the cold filled his lungs and the snowflakes dotted his skin, their touch gentle and cold. "Thank you," he whispered, his gaze lingering on the brightest star in the sky.

One day he'd see them again and for now that was enough. They were happy, they were safe, and they were loved. What more could he want for the people he cared about? As he began to fade he looked around once more, his eyes locking on the last place he'd seen Isabel and Kyle. Yes, his work here was done. They were going to be fine and he was going to be a pleasant memory, as he should be. That pang of loneliness eased a bit and he smiled as he looked up at the stars.

"I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep." He'd finally kept the last of his promises and he'd traveled the last leg of his journey here on Earth. He didn't know where his journey would take him now, but just as Isabel was beginning hers, so was he. He was ready and it was time to go.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N** There is a reference to the song "American Pie' by Don McLean. Not ours.

 **Epilogue**

In spite of the closed sign hanging inside the window on the entrance to Parker's Pub, there was an energetic hum of activity going on behind the scenes. It had become a tradition over the past few years for the parents to meet up early on New Year's Day to get the morning started. The music their kids teased them about poured from the speakers as they set about preparing breakfast. There was no expectation of seeing their kids come through the doors too early so they took their time, laughing, joking and talking.

They had come together out of necessity but over time their camaraderie, their friendships had become real. They were bonded through a secret, the desire to see their children safe, and the will to persevere against those who would destroy them. It was strong and steady and it flowed through their group the way blood flows through veins to keep the heart beating. It had taken time but they'd eventually learned to work around each other in the kitchen and these days their movements were unhindered and seamless.

"I think the kids are about to start straggling in," Jeff said when he heard the buzzer that went off to let him know when deliveries were incoming. There were no deliveries this morning and the only other access to that door would be through the use of a little hybrid help.

Nancy leaned back and bit back a smile at her daughter's barely awake features as she came through the door, Max dragging along behind her. She greeted them with a smile and a hug before turning them loose on his parents and shifting her attention back to her part of the breakfast preparations.

"We made it!" Maria announced enthusiastically as she practically bounced through the kitchen.

"Where's Michael?" Amy asked as she hugged her daughter.

"Oh, he went to pick Laurie up." She made a face. "Really, I think he's just trying to see if he can get the drop on Ian." She really didn't understand the macho one-upping the two of them had resorted to over time.

Jim chuckled and grabbed a spatula as he focused on the grill. "He may be disappointed this time. Ian was planning to leave early this morning."

 _Well, that would just make him grumpy,_ she thought. Maria rolled her eyes and headed out through the front to join Liz at the bar. "Where's the girlfriend?" she asked as she dropped onto one of the barstools.

Liz tried to hide a yawn and hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "I think he's looking for a way to sabotage the oldies marathon."

Maria snickered at that. "Hey, where'd you two take off to after I finished my set last night?"

The brunette blushed and shot a glance at her husband.

"Um-hmm," she mused when she noticed her best friend's flushed expression and when no response was forthcoming she went on. "You guys went to that frat party on campus, didn't you? The one where they get some old guy to show up as Father Time and one of the pledges is dressed in just a diaper?"

 _Yes, because that was exactly the kind of party she and Max would go to,_ Liz thought with a snort. "We went to a party, but no, Maria, no one was wearing a diaper."

She nudged Liz with her elbow. "Private party for two?" she teased. Her eyebrows lifted when Max gave up on the music and joined them, dropping into a graceless heap on the barstool next to his wife. He slumped over the counter and pillowed his head on his folded arms. "Liz, really, what'd you do to the girlfriend? If I didn't know better I'd think he was hungover."

"Yeah, Liz, tell her what you did to me," Max muttered with a smirk.

"Where'd you say Michael was?" Liz asked in an effort to change the subject.

"Were we talking about Michael?" Before she could follow that line of thought the buzzer at the back sounded and she heard their parents greeting Michael and Laurie. The two of them had gotten close since they'd moved to Canada and in that time he'd slowly drawn the girl out little by little. She was still quiet but she had reached a point where she was no longer scared of her own shadow and there were occasions when she was happy to bait and tease Michael.

Laurie came out and joined them, a glass of orange juice in her hand. "I'm glad Ian had already left by the time Michael got to the house." She rolled her eyes and sat down a couple of barstools away. "I think things could've seriously escalated between them today." She nodded at him when he paused in the doorway between the back and front, his hand holding one of the swinging doors open as he talked to the Sheriff. "He's pretty cagey. Nothing resolved between Kyle and Isabel yet?"

"None of us have heard from them since last night. He told Michael he thought maybe it was time to leave so he's been on edge."

Liz ran a hand through her hair. "I thought you said Kyle promised he wouldn't make any decisions without talking to Michael first."

"He did, but as restless as he was all last night I'm not sure he believed him."

They fell silent when Michael finally pushed away from the doorway and walked over to take the stool next to his girlfriend. "Sheriff hasn't seen him," he muttered, the words low so only she would hear them when he leaned in to kiss her.

"He didn't come home last night?"

"If he'd come home the Sheriff would've seen him."

She pressed a finger to his lips when he growled at her, stopping the irritated flow of words. "He said he'd call you and if he'd made that decision he would've called."

Jeff came through the double doors and pulled a notepad out of his shirt pocket. "The kitchen's open for orders," he said, his pencil poised above the pad.

Liz smiled. This was something else that had become a tradition and she loved it. Everything they were calling out was well on its way to being ready, and with six parents packed into the kitchen it wouldn't take long, but Dad always came out and asked for their orders anyway.

He passed Diane on his way to the back and he chuckled at the tray of orange juice filled glasses. "I think those two might need something a little stronger," he said with a nod at their children.

"Jim's right behind me with the coffee." She paused in front of her son and she reached out to cup his chin in her hand, lifting his face so she could get a good look at him. "I'm guessing you'll be taking your coffee black this morning."

"Mom," he complained, refusing to admit just how whiny it sounded.

She started handing the juice out, placing the last two on the counter in front of empty stools.

Jim wasn't far behind, placing the steaming mugs of coffee next to the juice glasses. He paused next to her, a grin on his face when he recognized his truck pulling up out in front. He watched as his son dropped down out of the cab, a spring in his step as he hurried around the front of the truck to open the passenger's side door.

Michael glanced up and caught the proud look on the Sheriff's face and he shifted on his stool to see what he was looking at. His entire demeanor relaxed when he saw the couple heading around the side of the building and he shrugged when Maria reached over to cover his hand where it rested on his thigh.

Jim disappeared into the back just seconds before the buzzer sounded again, admitting the last of the group. He slid his tray on the counter next to Amy and she gave him a small nudge with her elbow when he stood rooted to the spot, his eyes locked on the young couple standing there.

Isabel naturally gravitated to her mom, smiling at her dad when he scanned her features, making sure everything was alright. She was envelope in a bear hug that she returned wholeheartedly before he whispered a quiet 'I love you' and released her to her mother's embrace.

"It looks like things worked out," Diane murmured quietly.

"Thank you, Mom." She leaned back to look at the older woman. "Thank you for everything."

She framed her daughter's face in her hands, looking for and finding peace and acceptance there. "I'm happy for you, honey."

They turned to look at Kyle, chuckling when he was pulled into a hug by his dad. It was easy to see that Jim was relieved to see his son in good spirits and there was no denying the look of happiness that radiated from the younger man's entire being.

"So what's for breakfast?" he asked as he and his dad separated.

"Blueberry pancakes," Diane said with a wink at her daughter.

"C'mon, Mrs. Valenti, there's a plate of those with my name comin' up," Kyle said as he reached for Isabel's hand and pulled her out of the kitchen.

"Right behind you, Sugar Muffin," she mocked with a grin that couldn't be suppressed.

Max sat up straighter when the swinging doors pushed outward and they came out into the front. "Classy ride," he said with a nod at the window behind him.

"Well, it's not a Viper, but when you've got style it doesn't matter," Kyle said with a grin.

Isabel couldn't resist. "You have style?"

"Hey…" He hooked his thumbs in the lapels of his leather jacket. "Besides, I like to think of myself more as a teenage buck with a pickup truck."

"Think you forgot part of that line there, broncin' buck." Max snorted and leaned over the counter in a sort of dignified slide so he could pluck a flower from the arrangement Liz's mom had placed there for their New Year's Day breakfast celebration. He handed it to his wife and motioned to Kyle, nodding when she leaned over and tucked the stem into one of the zippered pockets.

Maria hummed a few bars before she sang the next line of the song. "But I knew I was out of luck the day the music died."

Isabel smiled and shook her head. For the first time in a long time things felt right. She looked at Kyle and they shared a smile that had the guys groaning. "The music isn't dead anymore."

"No, it's not," he said, his eyes twinkling happily.

 _The End_

 **Author's Note:** This story is dedicated to the memory of Mary Ellen Trainor (1952 – 2015) a.k.a. Diane Evans. She brought life to many characters, but for those of us in the Roswell fandom, she made Mrs. Evans rich in so many ways. Gone but not forgotten, rest in peace.

5


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